


Poster Boy

by T-hai-la (Cammerel)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Bottom Jim, Drunk Spock, Drunken Kissing, Kidnapped James T. Kirk, Kidnapping, Let me know if i missed anything I hope I got it all, M/M, Murder, Okay please read through these carefully, Rape, Recovery, Top Spock, Violence, Vulcan Mind Melds, not between Spock and Kirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 21:12:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13256715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/T-hai-la
Summary: Spock’s time as Captain is dark and grueling for both him and his bridgemates. He rules his team with an iron fist, one focus in mind - saving his human.He doesn’t stop for nearly three years, deviating from all of his responsibilities with what he is able to convince Starfleet is logic, reason.It has nothing to do with personal feelings, he tells them, it only has to do with freeing what is regarded as ‘the spirit of the fleet’. Having Jim’s torture publicised to at least the leaders of the fleet has caused more than unrest amongst them. It has been a tense three years.That’s what he tells them. But it could not be more wrong. It is more than personal.His crew knows, can see the red fire behind his eyes, the cold regard he has for their lives and his own, as he searches for what is his.





	Poster Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Googles ‘Vulcan Penis’...

“This better be worth it,” Jim mutters as he glances back at where Spock is stationed, phaser positioned out, taking down any Klingon that enter the hallway.

Spock doesn’t respond, tagging two of them as Jim hacked through the door. He only paused minutely to glance to see that the door was opening before backing slowly into it as he watched the hall.

Once they were in the dark, Spock turns and offers out his arm for Jim to find, which he does.

“There you are,” Jim says in relief.

Spock can make out the smile in the dark just a moment before all of the light in the room comes up and they both reach an arm up to shield their eyes.

“Spock,” Jim breathes out in awe.

Spock feels through the small, miniscule bond they’ve so far formed, the shock that slithers along it. He’s not sure what he returns the reaction with, eyes widening when he sees the crowd of children standing before them.

Their dark eyes, short black hair, pointed ears unmistakable at once.

“We’re here to save you guys,” Jim explains to them, smiling sadly, “Let’s go.”

Spock collects himself quickly, helping Jim gather them to the door before going out first himself.

To his surprise, no one is waiting outside, not a single Klingon. His confusion is put to its immediate relief when the party of redshirted men and women come around from the corner, their phasers out like his own.

“Ah, about time you guys caught up,” Jim slaps Spock on the shoulder, “Looks like our job is done, let’s get back.”

Spock looks at Jim as the kids behind them widen their eyes at the unusual display. He inclines his head, only letting the barest of upward curves to grace his lips, “Captain.”

Jim goes first, Spock quickly following behind as they both take the lead.

They get the children to the docking bay without meeting resistance, Jim making sure all of their ship members and the young Vulcans have passed him before taking up his spot at the door should anyone come through.

Spock takes the other side, holding his phaser down in both hands as he stares at the Captain, his expression softening, “You are expecting resistance, though we were thorough, and were even followed by the ten others that came to assist us in this endeavour.”

“Too easy.”

Spock’s brows crease minutely, “To what are you referring?”

“It was too easy getting in,” Jim shrugs, “Call me paranoid, but-”

The door opens and the two of them are unprepared for the plethora of Klingon that filter through just as the first group of Vulcan children are being beamed up to the Enterprise.

“Jim!” Spock shouts, blasting the Klingon back that had turned his attention to the Captain. But he quickly had problems of his own.

The attention wasn’t solely on relieving them of the children they were still in the process of rescuing. Instead, most of them focused their attention on Jim.

As opposed to trying to fight back against them, Jim turns and starts running to give Spock time to deal with the ones that have surrounded himself before assisting his Captain.

Spock focuses his attention, dropping his phaser to settle for the more convenient arm to arm combat to filter through them more effectively. His motions are short and fluid, fueled by the desperate need to aid his Captain.

He can hear Jim running, shouting back at the Klingons chasing him.

Spock takes down two of them with a nerve pinch, receiving his first hit directly to the face when Jim shouts out.

“Spooooooooooooock!” he yells as he runs, aiming one phaser shot back behind himself.

Spock ducks from the next hit, slamming his open palm and knocking the Klingon off his feet, “You cannot outrun them, Jim. Klingons have-” he stops speaking to deliver another blow to the Klingon, “-three livers, allowing them a far superior build of stamina to assist in-” another hit to another Klingon, “-the effort of prevailing on the battlefield. You will tire long before they have.”

“Nice to know!”

Spock turns when he takes down the last of the Klingons in his immediate vicinity and takes back up his phaser to help clear out the ones still following Jim.

The redshirts had managed to beam up all of the Vulcan children, but were still fighting off a few Klingons that had been making the energizing process difficult.

Spock moves quickly to them, helping them while assisting his Captain, “Jim!”

“Si-five to beam up, Chekov!” Jim shouts into his communicator, reaching Spock finally and they’re transported just as the group of Klingons reach them.

The fight that erupts in the transporter room is immediate and chaotic. Two Klingons that had been transported up with them start in on Jim, but Spock ushers his way in between them.

With his attention turned away, he hears Chekov shout when the room lights up and more Klingons come in.

“Jim!” Spock turns quickly, reaching out to grab Jim’s arm, but it’s ripped from him by one of the Klingons.

“Spock!”

Jim tries to grab him again, but the Klingon at the front of the group takes out a device, pressing it to Jim’s temple and Spock feels it.

He shouts in pain, breath escaping him, knees giving out as he collapses.

* * *

When he wakes, it’s in the medbay and he turns to his left to see McCoy assisting one of the men that had been attacked back on the Klingon ship.

Spock starts to sit up when Leonard turns to him.

“Sit back down, spock. You’re not in a state to be back on your feet.”

“Where is Jim?”

McCoy presses his lips together, staring at him and then shaking his head.

“Where is Jim, doctor?” Spock asks again, more frantic.

“He’s gone, Spock. They took him,” McCoy tells him finally, “And whatever they did to him before they did seems to have affected you as well. On what level though, I’m not sure.”

“Our bond has been severed.”

McCoy stares at him for a long moment before responding gruffly, “I wasn’t aware the two of you were bonded.”

“We are not bonded in the way you are speaking,” Spock corrects him, although he does so with a sadness in him he finds himself unable to shield from.

McCoy nods slowly, “So… what kind of bond are we speaking about here? Must be big enough, to do what it did.”

“If you are referring to my passing out, I assure you that it is not so unusual,” Spock explains, “To be so quickly removed, the change can be startling, tragic in some cases. It is-” he stops when McCoy holds up a mirror to him and he stops speaking, staring into it in a stunned silence.

“Well, that shut you up fast,” McCoy says and leaves the mirror with him, turning back to his patient then, “Chekov says it happened the moment they did whatever they did to the two of you. I suggest you dye it before going back to your duties.”

Spock stares still into the mirror at the ribbon of gray threads of hair that reach just above the corner of his left brow. He touches them, then lowers the mirror, “Vulcans do not color their hair as they age, as some of your kind do. It is an injustice to the showing of time.”

“Yeah, except that you’re still an infant.”

“Where are the Vulcan children?”

McCoy laughs and it doesn’t carry the lightness it normally would, but he motions back behind himself, “Look to your left, Spock.”

Spock turns and takes note of all the children grouped together, some sleeping, some watching him, “They have not been taken to rooms yet?”

“I had far more pressing things to attend to.”

Spock glances around, frowning, “There are only a few of us in this room, doctor.”

“So you’re /not/ aware then of anything that happened after Jim was taken at all?” Dr. McCoy looks back at him finally.

“Your question is redundant, as you have been more aware of my state after said events-”

“You were dead, Spock,” McCoy tells him lowly, “You died nearly three times.”

Spock blinks and stares at him for a long moment, taking in the words and what they mean. Perhaps his and Jim’s bond had been more than what he had initially come to understand, “In what way do you refer to my passing?”

“Not physically, no,” McCoy waves off, growling, “But activity in your brain ceased /three full times/ before stabilizing. Even then, I wasn’t sure if it’d happen again or not. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was even going on. So I reviewed the playback of what happened in the transporter room-”

“As you should have concluded,” Spock interrupts him, “It is because of what transpired between Jim and the Klingon with the device - whatever it was. It is because our bond was severed.”

“Know of anything that can do that?”

“Death,” Spock says, feeling the pain swell with it, as he had been trying to avoid the thought of it at all.

McCoy rolls his eyes, “You’re being dramatic.”

“I know what I saw, doctor, and so do you.”

“And you haven’t seen anything since.”

Spock raises a brow, shoulders tightening, “Have the Klingons established contact between my falling unconscious and this moment?”

“They have.”

Spock doesn’t miss the look McCoy gives the Vulcan children. He understands and starts to get up, but barely holds himself up, slumping and catching himself on the edge of the bed.

“Spock, I told you not to get up!”

“It is imperative that I return to my duties,” Spock starts, but McCoy glares at him.

“It’s /imperative/ that you get some rest after… after losing your bond,” then his voice softens, “I’m aware of what that means for a Vulcan. You’re in no state to work.”

“Then, as it is, you should allow me to my own room.” Spock reasons, “I’m in a vulnerable state and will need to meditate for some time before I am able to do anything strenuous.”

McCoy sighs finally and nods, “Alright, go. Get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

Spock inclines his head and leaves at once, walking in silence before he reaches his own quarters. The moment he steps inside, he lets out what he had only barely managed to hold back in the presence of Dr. McCoy and all of the young Vulcan children.

The broken sob tears up through him and he collapses, letting it go.

 _I will grieve aloud this once, and then I must not let myself falter again_ , he tells himself. And with that he lets all of it out.

His heart aches in his side, his body trembling as the sounds rip along his throat, clasping his fists and closing in upon himself.

Spock allows it for some time, he is unsure how long. But when he has collected himself, he begins compartmentalizing and putting everything back as it was.

It’s an effort that takes hours, and even then there are some that he fails on filtering through. Those thoughts and emotions he shoves into the back and locks the door so that it cannot affect him during his duties to his ship and his crewmates.

He finally stands from the mat, expressions honed as he takes the PADD from where he’d left it by his bedside. It takes him only a moment to find the now classified news feed that had passed while he was unconscious. Before he even allows it to play, his body has already tensed considerably.

The playback starts with a Klingon male addressing Starfleet and the Federation. They separate themselves from the rest of the Klingon Empire, but insist that what they are doing is an act intended to incite violence and war between themselves and the Federation.

And then the feed changes to a holding cell and Spock’s heart nearly stops. An illogical assumption, though it feels as if his entire body has seized up when he sees the state of his Captain.

Jim Kirk is seated, arms tied behind his back, expression tight as he stares at the Klingon before him.

“Am I the only one you took?”

“You do not ask the questions, /boy Captain/,” the Klingon responds, walking around him.

“What about the Vulcan?”

The Klingon sneers, “Questions.”

Jim rolls his eyes, “One question.”

“That is not how we do things here, James T. Kirk.”

Jim’s eyes light up and he smiles, “So, you’ve heard of me.”

“You are Star/fleet/’s Poster Boy, are you not?”

“Not a bad assumption.”

“The youngest Captain to man a starship,” the Klingon tells him and Jim keeps nodding.

“Yup, yup, that’s me,” he confirms, “Want my autograph or something?”

The question is barely out of his mouth before the Klingon hits him in the face, knocking him almost senseless.

Spock’s grip on the PADD tightens, the device making a small ‘crack’ sound as the playback continues. But the Klingon doesn’t stop, hitting Jim over and over until his face is bloodied, neck snapping back with each hit.

It’s brutal to watch, for nearly ten minutes before the Klingon leaves him sitting there.

Jim’s head slumps forward, shoulders still, body unmoving.

Spock blinks as he stares, then a second feed starts of what almost seems like the same thing. A healer comes in finally, taking care of Jim’s wounds, but it isn’t long before he’s reduced to the same, bloodied mess by another Klingon.

The screen on the PADD cracks and spiders out and the playback starts glitching before Spock throws it away.

He stands from his bed, covering his mouth and then punching out at the wall. And then he leaves his room, going down to the gym where he can try to alleviate his anger. He should meditate, but he doesn’t think it is a wise decision in his state, there must be some relief.

The days and months that follow are the hardest for Spock to endure, though he knows it is harder for his Captain.

Feed from the Klingon’s is broadcast each day, four or five times in intervals. It’s everything Starfleet can do to keep the records of them quiet. Spock views them, sometimes just to be sure that Jim is still alive, but there are times when he passes them over in hopes to retain his own sanity.

A minute of one of the playbacks is enough to compromise him, to force him into self-reflection for hours on end.

The toll the beatings are taking on Jim don’t start to show until nearly a month, when they change. When they go from senseless beatings to real, genuine torture. And then from that…

* * *

Spock startles awake with the emergency sound coming from his PADD and he turns onto his side to view the message.

_‘They broadcast an hour ago. Don’t watch it, Spock. Trust me.’_

Spock frowns at the urgent message from McCoy, but then his muscles tense up. The only reason the doctor would think to make the message as urgent would be if Jim were dead. If his life had been taken on live feed.

He closes the message, immediately going against its warning and bringing up the latest collection of the feed and plays it back.

Jim smiles up at the Klingon, despite everything he’s endured thus far, he is still resilient, _“You guys never give up, do you? The gift that keeps on giving.”_

_“Yet you still respond with humor.”_

_“This? This is nothing?”_ Jim shrugs, wetting his lip, _“This is nothing compared to what I can endure. It’s a nice try, though. I’ll give you credit, you’ve managed to do a lot more than most.”_

_“Your people are nowhere around you, James Kirk. Yet you speak like you think you have won a battle.”_

Jim tilts his head to the other side, _“Because I have. You haven’t done anything to me that I haven’t already done to myself in some way. You can’t hurt me. I’ve taken my share of beatings, even asked for most of them. But, by all means, keep going.”_

The Klingon on screen walks around him as he speaks and nods slowly in understanding, _“So your weakness is not your own, but your crewmates. Your people.”_

Jim tenses then, but plays it off admirably, _“Which I’m assuming you’ve either killed them all already, or you let them go.”_

 _“It will not be difficult to harm you in this way,”_ the Klingon observes, _“We will see to it.”_

_“And in the meantime?”_

The Klingon made a face that could be construed as amusement, _“We will take a different approach.”_

Jim’s look of confusion was interrupted by stunned silence and it takes a moment for Spock to realize what the Klingon has done.

_No._

He starts to close his eyes, but forces them to stay open as the Klingon reaches around and cuts Jim’s restraints.

At once, the Captain is up from his seat, backing away from the Klingon before he lashes out, trying to hit the larger man.

The Klingon takes advantage of his weakened state, his wobbling legs, and turns him, shoving his face and chest against the wall. He starts to tear the hem of Jim’s pants, the sound accompanied by the Captain’s scream of pain when the Klingon twists his arm back.

Spock feels his hands and legs go numb, eyes wide as he is now unable to pull his gaze away.

Jim still struggles, the Klingon hitting him in the side to try and stop him from fighting. He stumbles and they both drop. The fight is short and quick, Jim running out of energy and sense as the Klingon hits him in the face a few more times before flipping him back over on the ground.

Unable to do anymore, Kirk lets out a broken sob when the Klingon mounts him and starts to shove his penis inside him.

The scream he lets out is piercing and Spock’s gaze blurs.

“Fuck you!” Jim finally shouts, silencing when he hears the sound of dripping even picked up in the playback.

Spock watches in stunned, pained anger as Jim is raped. The Klingon above him not tiring despite the harsh, quick thrusts, his talons cutting Kirk’s hips, the body eventually stilling beneath him.

When he does finally pull back, he stands and leaves the cell, walking out of view of the feed.

After a short moment, the healers come in and drag Kirk away, leaving nothing but a pool of blood behind.

Spock doesn’t realize it at first, but he’s shaking.

He’s visibly disturbed and shaken from watching the video. He told himself he wouldn’t allow himself to grieve again for Jim, but he does.

* * *

Every day after that morning was the same.

Jim was raped and humiliated on the feedback. It was one of the few torments that got a reaction out of him.

In times afterwards, they would bring in others, innocents, only to kill them in front of Kirk. This was what truly began to break the Captain.

Sometimes the Klingons would make them watch before they ended their lives. Sometimes… sometimes they would rape the other victim as well.

They had put together a torture befitting only someone as strong-willed as James Kirk (Spock could barely handle even watching it, himself).

There are times when Jim cried for hours, the feed left on to show how broken and defeated he had become.

* * *

Outside of his room, Spock is stone-faced. He refuses to comment on anything about what happens in the live feeds, even though it’s clear the others on the bridge are aware of what’s been happening.

Any and all of Spock’s free time is taken up by meditating, reminding himself that it is worse for his Captain.

He will find a way to Jim. He will not be left to suffer.

Spock’s time as Captain is dark and grueling for both him and his bridgemates. He rules his team with an iron fist, one focus in mind - saving his human.

He doesn’t stop for nearly three years, deviating from all of his responsibilities with what he is able to convince Starfleet is logic, reason.

It has nothing to do with personal feelings, he tells them, it only has to do with freeing what is regarded as ‘the spirit of the fleet’. Having Jim’s torture publicised to at least the leaders of the fleet has caused more than unrest amongst them. It has been a tense three years.

That’s what he tells them. But it could not be more wrong. It is more than personal.

His crew knows, can see the red fire behind his eyes, the cold regard he has for their lives and his own, as he searches for what is his.

When he finds it, he beams down personally, with what could be considered as an army at his back.

They board the ship during a live feed and Spock leads the charge along the deck, through the storage and engineering, to the cells where he finds the one open, a single Klingon in the cell with Jim.

He turns in surprise when he see Spock, and the Vulcan drops his phaser to take up hand in hand combat not because it is easier (because it isn’t, he has enough distance to stun the Klingon if he wishes) but because he needs to get out what’s been building inside of him.

The revenge he exacts isn’t quite what he hoped, but it’s effective.

He blocks the first hit, smacking the Klingon in the face and then it’s everything the Klingon can do to defend itself from the blows Spock starts in with. Hit after hit lands, until the Klingon is on the ground and unresponsive.

Spock stares down at him, panting, and turns to where Jim lays motionless on the floor.

He kneels quickly, pulling the Captain into his arms, “Jim,” he says, “Captain, can you move at all?”

Jim opens his eyes, staring up and smiling slowly, “Move, Mr. Spock?” he manages, voice hoarse, “If you want, I can fly.”

Spock’s frown deepens, his brows narrowing, “I’m aware, as I know you are, that humans lack the physical traits required to attain more than a light jump. Even the most capable of your kind have only been able to reach leaps of eight feet at most with your own planet’s gravity - and that is while taking in the physical requirements to even gain such a height. Furthermore, I’m unsure as to why I would begin to ask something like this of you, considering-”

“Spock, Spock,” Jim croaks out, laughing, but in pain, “I get it, you don’t watch movies. I get it.”

“Captain, why are you referring to pre-scripted motion pictures from the years before mankind attained warp capabilities?”

“It’s a line from a movie,” Jim responds, “Get me out of here, please, Mr. Spock. That’s… an order.”

“Very well, Captain.”

Spock might never tell him, but the moment the Captain was in his arms, he felt a stirring inside of him unlike anything else ever before.

He could not explain it, but maybe he would never need to.

They beamed back to the Enterprise together, Jim covered in a cloak they had found on their way through the Klingon ship, and finally Jim was being carried up in Spock’s arms. He was hardly out of the holding cells before his legs gave out on him and he was winded.

Spock left him in the capable hands of Dr. McCoy once they were back safely, and then he took his leave to meditate and make the required adjustments before he could Captain the ship once more.

Afterwards, unsure if he was welcome to visit the medbay - whether or not it was reasonable, practical, or would assist in any way to Jim becoming fit for duty - Spock kept himself away. He was needed on the bridge, to return their ship back to the course it had been strayed from three years prior.

Jim was released to his own quarters on the fifth day and Spock made the required adjustments to the room, faithfully returning to his. He had taken up the Captain’s quarters after nearly a year of being in Jim’s place outside of his personal life. It was a choice he made only for his own benefit entirely, as it was not required of him, to help ease his meditation process.

It was the fifth night he stayed up to late hours aboard the ship, meditating because he was unable to sleep peacefully.

It was the first night Jim was back in his room and Spock resisted the urge to visit him.

He is deep in meditation when a voice calls to him. Looking up from inside, he watches as the ceiling shudders in his mind.

“Spock.”

He tilts his head, hands behind his back, and then his mind shudders again.

“Spock.”

Spock opens his eyes and stares at the wall of his room, the lights low, “Jim,” he breathes, feeling the other man’s presence in the room.

“Sorry, I just… I don’t wanna interrupt you. I know it’s important that you-”

“Is there something you need of me, Jim?”

He turns enough to see the Captain at the bathroom door that joins their rooms.

“I…” he sighs, rustling his wet hair, “I can’t sleep.”

Spock waits, observing how it’s clear that his Captain has only just bathed, new clothes on that are not sleepwear, “It is to be expected, I suppose, considering all that you have been through.”

“Yeah,” Jim moves into the room, closing the door behind himself and smiling sheepishly, “I thought you might be awake.”

“I am at your full disposal, Captain. How can I be of assistance?”

Jim walks over to him, taking a seat beside him and Spock turns on his knees to look at his Captain, to see the lines of wear on his young face.

“Bones says I was gone for three years.”

“That is true, Captain.”

“And that during that time, you took my place,” he says carefully, “Am I to be relieved by you?”

“In that respect, Captain, no.”

Jim smiles slowly at Spock’s words, “Why, Spock, flirting already?”

Spock stares at him silently, hiding his own amusement, “I only mean to convey that I am at your disposal to help with any other relief you may need. You are still my Captain, though I am in the seat until you are fit for duty once more.”

Jim’s smile only widens. Though it’s sincere, Spock still can make out the pain in it.

“Bones also told me that there was a… a feed of what was going on.”

“I believe that they meant not only to break your own spirit, Jim, but the Federation and Starfleet as well.”

“Did they succeed?”

“Only if we allow that to be the case.”

Jim nods to himself, “Well, let’s make sure that never happens.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Please call me Jim,” Jim insists, “Of anyone, you have the most right to.”

Spock inclines his head, “Very well, Jim.”

Jim clears his throat, “So… what you… what you saw when you came to save me. That wasn’t the first time you were aware of what was happening?”

“Five thousand one hundred and fifty-three times, Captain.”

Jim tenses, eyes wide, “Five thous-”

“One thousand and thirty-two days,” Spock starts to list off, trying not to convey as much emotion as he felt with the words he was saying, “Nearly three years. Four, sometimes five feeds a day.”

He did not, however, tell Jim the amount of other victims that were forced to participate. He did not want to convey any kind of guilt that was not his own.

Jim looks away, swallowing tightly. Spock could see all the questions within those eyes before he couldn’t see them at all.

“I’m… sorry you… had to see that, Spock.”

“None of that responsibility lies upon your shoulders, Jim,” Spock responds, tone soft, “I fail to imagine what state of mind you had to take upon the torture they inflicted.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

“Perhaps if you meditated-”

“I can’t meditate,” Jim tells him, and there returns the smile that he’s been offering despite his pain.

Spock lifts a brow.

“I fall asleep if I try,” Jim explains, finally meeting his eyes once more, “I get bored, I start thinking, I start wanting to do things.”

“You grow bored of trying to compartmentalize?”

“I dunno, maybe I try to do it wrong.”

Spock considers this for a long moment, “Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

“Is that at all possible?”

“It is more than possible, Jim. But it is very personal, to let someone into your own mind. And, as I am not a healer, it would take much longer-”

“Long is fine,” Jim waves his hand, “This kind of… what I went through… it shouldn’t be fixed quickly.”

“Indeed, Jim.”

Jim relaxes his shoulders, motioning between them, “Okay, so what do we do?”

Spock reaches a hand up, placing his fingers on the psi points and staring into those soft blue eyes, “I am going to probe your mind, Jim. Are you at all prepared?”

He can see the smile light up on Jim’s face, but the Captain nods.

“Hah, yeah,” he says in amusement, then takes a deep, teasing tone, “Probe at your leisure, Mr. Spock.”

“Jim, this is hardly the time to make sexual jokes considering what-”

“I’ll make jokes about you saying ‘I’m going to probe you, Jim’ any day, no matter what.”

“Jim-”

“Just do it already, Spock.”

Spock closes his eyes and at once he’s inside.

It is unlike how it is in his own mind, of course. There is storm and ache and chaos.

Spock struggles to find purchase for a long time, unable to calm the storm of thoughts. But then something reaches out and snaps around his own self and he pulls his hand back from Jim’s face.

At once, he’s back in his room, eyes wide.

“What? What happened?”

Spock only allows himself a short relief.

“Something happened, I know it,” Jim shifts a little before him, “I feel all warm and-”

“Our bond has refitted itself,” Spock ponders, “I was not expecting it to still be retained, let alone to be so voracious.”

Jim blinks, “Our bond? We have a bond?”

“Does this at all surprise you, Jim?”

Jim seems to think on the question before answering, “I guess I shouldn’t be, but I am,” then he smiles and leans in, “We have a bond? /Spock/,” he all but whispers Spock’s name, “Spock.”

“Jim,” Spock snaps, trying to endure his Captain’s desire to tease at every given moment, “Perhaps it would be more prudent for you to first probe me, so that you may-”

He was cut off by the spit that hit his face when Jim Kirk burst into undignified laughter, falling back on his side and holding out a hand in almost apology as if asking Spock to wait for him to collect himself.

Spock did wait, but he did so with a tight lip, trying to convey more of his aggravation and impatience. He was, however, delighted that the Captain was still so entirely light-hearted, as he always had been, despite his mind being a chaos. Perhaps it was because so, that he willfully insisted on appearing unchanged.

Jim finally sat back up, watching Spock wipe the spit from his lower lip, cheek, and brow, “Sorry, I was /not/ ready for that.”

Spock resists the urge to sigh.

“So how do we do this? I’m not a touch telepath.”

“Nevertheless, you must do the same,” Spock demonstrates, pulling Jim’s hand to his face and helping him to place his fingers, “I will draw you in.”

Jim nods and it is instant, a flawless meld.

Spock stands aboard what looks like the observation deck of the Enterprise and he feels Jim at his side.

Jim looks around in stunned silence before voicing his own confusion.

“We’re… on the ship?”

“This is not the real Enterprise, Jim,” Spock explains, “This is where I am when I meditate.”

“In the ship.”

Spock turns bodily to him, “It is a place I can find myself at ease. A comfort,” he holds up a hand, “As you will still hear the movements, the casual pings, but you will see no real crewman on deck.”

“Yeah, yeah. This is amazing,” Jim starts walking around it, Spock watching him tentatively, “You make all of this so you can view it in your own mind?”

“I assure you, Jim, I run a tight ship even inside of myself.”

Jim laughs, “Yeah, yeah, no kidding,” he stops then, reaching out, “What’s this?”

Spock tenses briefly, feeling the hand touch his hair above his left brow, “You inquire about the gray hairs.”

“Is this some kind of brain statement? You feel like an old graying man in your memory?”

Spock frowns, “This is my hair in and outside of here, Jim. Have you not noticed?”

Jim blinks in realization, “Oh, I thought it was just a trick of the light. From the low light and the incense and everything.”

“It happened to me when our bond was severed.”

“I didn’t get grays,” Jim observes aloud.

“It was stronger for me, as I am the telepath, and Vulcan. To me, it was as though I had lost a limb.”

Jim frowns, “Ouch.”

Spock nods minutely, “It was quite tragic, Jim. Yes.”

“So…” Jim claps his hands together, bringing light back into their conversation “How do you see thoughts? How do you-”

“This way, Jim,” Spock motions to one of the doors leading from the observation deck and they walk together.

Once they’re in the room, Jim laughs in surprise as he looks around.

“You put all your memories in the archive?”

Spock lifts a brow, “Can you not think of a more fitting location, Jim?”

“I can /not/, Mr. Spock,” Jim looks around at the clearly labelled walls, some dim, some colored differently, “How are these ordered?”

Spock tilts his head to the side, “It can change, but for the moment they are simply as needed.”

“Would it be too much to ask to view some?”

“Not at all, Jim,” Spock says and motions to the back corner, “You must grasp fully what is expected to make your mind uncluttered. It is only logical that I provide you with everything you need.”

Jim follows him and Spock pulls open one of the slides, taking a box from it and then motioning up to the label.

In Vulcan, Jim could never dream to know what it says, but Spock reads it out.

“These are dwell moments.”

“Dwell moments?” Jim asks in confusion and Spock holds out the box.

Jim takes it and opens it carefully.

Before them is another Spock, walking in place, then pausing to speak.

_“The reports have come back from the plants gathered, Captain. They are, indeed, capable of paralyzing the land crew.”_

_“Thank you, Mr. Spock. Good to know it’s not Hammer Time.”_

Jim’s voice is disembodied, coming from a location before the Spock they watch.

Jim standing beside Spock laughs, but startles when the larger, more overwhelming voice of Spock swells from around them.

_**Hammer Time. An unfamiliar reference as there are no hours in the day that I know of that can be referred to as ‘Hammer Time’. Nor are there days in the week or weeks in a month or years-** _

The disembodied voice of Jim, smaller than the thoughts spurring from his words, cuts back in.

_“A super dope homeboy from the Oaktown. And I'm known as such. And this is a beat, uh, you can't touch.”_

As Spock starts speaking back, the thoughts filter in at the same time.

_**Super. Dope. Homeboy. What is a ‘homeboy’? Jim is not from Oaktown. If anywhere, he is from Iowa. What is a beat I cannot touch?** _

The memory starts to repeat and Spock reaches out to close the box still in Jim’s hands. He observes the smile on Jim’s face.

“It’s a song, Mr. Spock,” he tells him.

“A classical song?”

“A /very/ classical song,” Jim tells him, “MC Hammer. Back in the 1900’s he was quite a figurehead.”

Spock smiles slightly and then he sets the box aside.

“This may be important,” he turns to the center of the room, to the database, and shows Jim something glowing from inside it. He pulls it out and holds it up.

To them, it starts to replay the conversation they just had.

Then he takes a new, smaller box, places the object inside and takes the two boxes together to another side of the room.

“So this is what it looks like when you organize them?”

“Yes, Jim.”

“Where are you moving it to?”

Spock opens the wall slide and places the box in an already full compartment. He pauses and considers it, “Soon, I will need to make more space here.”

“What’s all of this?” Jim motions to the label above them, written in yellow.

“These are…” Jim can see the shade of green on Spock’s cheeks.

“They are… what?”

Spock puts his hands behind his back, staring up at his collection, “They are my most prized memories of you, Jim.”

Jim’s eyes widen. Then he turns back to them, “All of these?”

“All of them.”

Jim turns and nudges Spock, “What’s number one? Can I see?”

Spock’s cheeks heat more and he clears his throat, “Considering that it is also a memory of your own, I have no fear of sharing this with you, Jim.”

Jim smiles wider.

Spock walks over to the first slide, pulling it out and taking the top box. He offers it to Jim.

“Jim, you must first understand that this memory is very dear to me,” he tells him, “During these last years, I have kept and treasured this one most of all. It may not surprise you, but it also may disturb you.”

“None of my conversations with you have ever disturbed me, Spock,” Jim assures him.

Spock motions for him to open the box and he does.

At once, there are both Jim and himself suspended out before them, standing and staring together.

Spock watches and observes Jim as he views the memory.

Memory Jim laughs, one arm around himself as he turns and leans against something barely visible. His other hand rests and reaches up to touch his skin, _“Ah, Spock. You amaze me even now.”_

_**He is amazed by me. Is this to be precise or, as usual, an over-exaggerated emotion?** _

**__** _“To what are you referring to, Captain?”_

_“Your sense of humor never ceases to cause me joy.”_

_**I do not see humor in the curiosity of the term ‘throw caution to the wind’. As it was merely meant as a question. Although I may have been able to pose it in a less seasoned group of vocabulary.** _

**__** _“As you are rarely without joy, Captain, I would assume this to be an unchanged state for you.”_

Jim makes a face, _“Well, that’s not /untrue/.”_

_**So the phrasing was intended to be an over-exaggeration after all.** _

Spock’s gaze lowers, watching Jim from the corner of his eye.

_“Few people appreciate how you are truly a comedian amongst your people.”_

_“You would be the first to think so.”_

_“Maybe others just aren’t listening hard enough,”_ Jim’s voice lowers, _“We’ve known one another for… what… two years now? I-”_

 _“Seven hundred and fifty-six days, Captain,”_ Spock tells him.

_**Por shinsarat, I have just openly participated in blandishment. Perhaps he will be unphased.** _

Jim’s smile grew heated, _“Regardless, I still find you to be the funniest person I know. Salty, but funny.”_

_**To what is this term in text: Salty?** _

**__** _“It is not my endeavour to be the cause of humor, Captain.”_

_“And what /is/ your endeavour, Spock?”_ Jim asks, crossing his arms over his chest, _“Being at my side, what do you hope to achieve?”_

 _ **Peace**_ , the disembodied voice above them speaks, and then a litany of thoughts filter in like a list of jumbled emotions.

_**To be content.** _

**_To be by your side._ **

**_To explore._ **

**_To understand you._ **

**_To learn and understand the universe._ **

**_To know you._ **

**_To be in your mind._ **

**_Tograspontowhatmakesyouyou-toresist-tobrace-tosee-tounderstand-toholdyou-totasteofyourbreath-_ **

The real Jim blushes, as does Spock. He had, perhaps, forgotten ho revealing and telling this memory was.

Memory Spock tilts his head, _“There is never one endeavour, Captain. But for the moment, I suppose I must endeavour to convey a sense of disapproval.”_

_“At what?”_

_“You must cease finding hilarity where there is only a regard for safety and the gathering of knowledge.”_

Jim laughs, _“I would if you didn’t pose your questions in the longest, most unusual way possible.”_

_**How else should I word it?** _

**__** _“How else should I word it, Captain?”_

Jim waves his hand, _“Don’t. Don’t word it any other way, Spock. I would never dream of changing you.”_

Spock lifts a brow, _“You complain of my wording, yet you find comfort in it?”_

_“I do.”_

_“Why is that, Captain?”_

Outside of the memory, Spock sees Jim brace for what is to come next.

Memory Jim stops smiling and stares at Spock, his gaze gaining back the heat from before.

_“You want to know what it is, Spock, to throw caution to the wind?”_

_**That has nothing to do with the question I have posed.** _

**__** _“That has nothing to do with the question I have posed.”_

_“Do you want to know, Spock? Answer the question.”_

_**Stubborn as always.** _

**__** _“I do, Jim.”_

Jim leans up then, his hand touching Spock’s chin. And then, for the briefest of moments, there is complete silence as their lips meet.

Spock’s disembodied thoughts stop on ‘ _ **What is he**_ -’ and don’t pick up for nearly the whole breath.

Real Jim gasps.

This kiss is barely a ghost of lips and then Jim pulls back.

Memory Spock slowly opens his eyes, staring at Jim.

And then all the thoughts come rushing in.

_**Nyota has done this to me before. (My heart rate has accelerated from 238 beats to 250 beats per minute. This is an uncommon response I have had to this act previously). But-(there is sweat gathering in my palms. There is pain in my arms, an unusual lurch...). With Jim, perhaps, this means something different. Though I am half-human, and despite the fact that I barely recognized it before, I now think that I can feel it. I feel a tug inside of me. But from where, I cannot explain. There is a-** _

The memory shudders, the two of them falling with the quake that would be the attack of the Klingons that got them into the mess they found themselves in three years ago - saving the child Vulcans, their bond being severed, and Jim being captured.

Spock closes the box and returns it, looking at Jim and observing him for a long moment, “Was I wrong to indulge you in the memory, Jim?”

Jim shakes his head, “No, no,” he smiles then, “It was a nice memory. A good one.”

Spock nods in agreement, pushing the slide closed.

Jim turns back, “So all of these are /our/ moments.”

“They are, Jim.”

The Captain turns to him then, “What do you do with a memory you haven’t or aren’t able to sort? Where do those go in here?”

Spock raises a brow, “A good question, Jim. Ones I have not sorted yet are here,” he motions to the device in the center of the room. But the ones that I… that I find I cannot properly sort, that I still need to ponder… they are not in here. Allow me to show you.”

Jim follows him out of the archive and down the hall to the rec room.

Spock pauses before he opens the door, “You must understand,” he starts, looking at Jim, “That these are unsorted memories, this room may appear somewhat…”

“Unsorted?”

“Indeed, Jim.”

Jim smiles and Spock finally opens the door to let him in.

The room is as he says, memories open and active, it appears as though there are multiple Spocks in the room, active, speaking, moving in a suspended walk sometimes.

Jim walks around them, observing one that is staring into a mirror at his own hair. He points and smiles, “You pick on me for noticing your hair, but even you still don’t know what to make of it.”

Spock joins him, watching himself, “It is somewhat jarring to see the grays,” he admits.

“Jarring, right,” Jim muses and turns to another Spock, younger, listing off variables, “And this little guy?”

The young Spock pauses and looks at him, pondering him as well.

Spock watches the two interact.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Jim,” the young Spock responds, then turns back to what he was saying.

Jim stands back upright, “How’s he unsorted?”

“He…” Spock sighs, a sound that surprises Jim, “He has been left for some time,” he concludes.

“You? Procrastinate?”

Spock ignores the jibe.

“Oh,” Jim says then as his eyes stop on the Spock fighting himself, knocking him breathless and then choking him over a sofa in the rec room. He stops, watching them. How the Spock on the couch stops and looks up to see him, unshed tears in his eyes.

“I still fight with this memory,” Spock admits, finally joining them, his hands behind his back.

 _“You were out of line,”_ the memory of Spock says spitefully, _“You never once apologized-”_

“He was doing what needed to be done,” Spock interrupts a litany of Vulcan swears, and then the memory of himself and Jim start fighting again.

Jim turns to him, “Wow, you really were pissed.”

Spock inclines his head in disappointment at himself, “As you intended me to be.”

Jim is silent, and then he moves to touch the Spock on the couch, “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely and the two stop fighting once more.

The memory of Spock stares at him, but he still appears angry, _“Lies, all you ever do is lie.”_

“Just leave him be, Jim,” Spock says, tugging the Captain away, “He is always angry.”

“I see that,” Jim frowns, “You feel that way about me?”

“I…” Spock shakes his head, “Once I had, but only for a moment.”

They stop at a group of Spock’s interacting.

Jim lifts a brow, “I’m gonna guess this isn’t a memory?”

“As they are unsorted, they sometimes interact with one another,” Spock explains, “And as they are singular thoughts for the most part, they seldom agree.

The conversation is heated, until one of them slaps another. Two step aside, holding themselves, and then four of them are at one another’s throats.

Spock is sure it doesn’t escape Jim, the depth of the argument.

_“We should hunt them down.”_

_“It is against regulations-”_

_“You are weak.”_

_“Bath'paik.”_

_“He is mine.”_

_“Nam'tor du kobat.”_

_“Thinking this way is illogical.”_

_“Some revenge is better than none.”_

_“It is over.”_

_“Is it ever truly over?”_

_“You are foolish, Spock. You are a fool.”_

_“Dvun'uh!”_ one of them finally shouts, choking another and then they’re at fists.

Jim steps back, eyes wide.

“ _Nam'uh hayal_ ,” one of the two holding each other says, a second crying in a way that Spock finds somewhat unnerving. He is always so open and raw.

“ _Ti'amah_!” another Spock shouts, breaking from the grip of a second and then smacking him hard across the face.

Jim finally moves in to push them all apart, “Stop, stop!” he shouts, “You can’t hurt yourself like this.”

All of them cease what they’re doing to stare at him.

“Jim,” the Spock that isn’t a memory says softly, “I did not bring you here to have you assist me in sorting my own mind.”

“Yeah, well… maybe they’re one in the same.”

The one that was sobbing tries to move to him, stops, but then turns into its own, separate memory.

Jim watches as he collapses, notes the grays in his hair, “Is this-”

“It is, Jim,” Spock kneels down to touch his own memory, “I grieved only once aloud. I have never been so exposed. I apologize for you having to see this.”

Jim shakes his head, “Why leave him in here?”

“Because sometimes to come in here, to see him, it has been a release of my own emotions,” Spock admits, “He does, however, cause problems with the others sometimes.”

“And this one?” Jim motions to the memory of Spock that was comforting him, “What about him?”

 _“Do not speak to me as though I am unhearing,”_ the Spock responds, his chest extending in a display of bravado.

Jim blinks and smiles, “Which memory are you?”

The Spock resets then, his hands behind his back, _“The Captain wishes to assist you and your people, should any need of our armed forces be ne-”_

 _“And the Captain himself?”_ a disembodied voice spoke, _“Is he also at our disposal?”_

Spock didn’t tense, but the thoughts came through above them all. All of the other Spocks in the room stop to listen.

_**What does she mean to imply?** _

**__**_“To what are you implying?”_ memory Spock asks.

“He is charming and handsome, will he also be coming down?”

_**He /is/ charming and handsome. He is not yours.** _

“The Captain is not available at this time.”

Jim laughs as the memory starts to repeat, but Spock quickly stops it.

 _“Harlot,”_ one of the Spocks that had been fighting says under his breath.

Both Spock and Jim look at him in surprise and he glares at them.

 _“Is it not obvious that she wished to copulate with the Captain?”_ he asks, cheeks a mint green, _“She was hardly trying to contain her libido-”_

A few of the others started to agree.

 _“And what of Nyota? As though that isn’t our own fault?”_ one Spock says, _“We are just as much to blame for-”_

 _“Her shoes in that dress,”_ another says in disgust.

_“They never match.”_

_“She’s horrible at matching.”_

_“We’re talking about Jim,”_ one of the more violent of the four that were fighting says, _“Stop talking about anyone else. It’s Jim, he’s dead. He’s-”_

“What memory are /you/ from?” real Jim chimes in, curious, noting that /lack/ of silver in this memory of Spock’s hair.

Spock tries to intervene, to stop him. It’s clear he’s seeing more than he should, but the memory starts.

The memory shouts in agony, _“Khaaaaaaaaan!”_ and then he cuts out, as if skipping forward, attacking something almost unseen now. The thoughts above start in, a swirl of chaos.

_**Kill. Revenge. What is mine. Tresahk-tor. What is his. Kill. Zarahk-tor. I burn. I am flame. Kill. Jim, I need. T’hai’la. Jim. Agony. I burn. I burn.** _

It gets so jumbled that Jim can barely make out words anymore.

He turns and looks at Spock in confusion, “Okay, I got some of that,” he admits when Spock ends the memory abruptly, “What is ‘T’hai’la’?”

The memories of Spock look at him, some in desire, some in pain, some in anger.

“Jim,” Spock finally cuts in, touching his back, “If you would take leave with me.”

“Uh, yeah, okay.”

They leave the rec room, the door closing behind them and Jim turns to him.

“Sorry, Spock,” he says before Spock can say anything else on the subject, “I had a feeling I was learning a little too much.”

Spock inclines his head, “Indeed,” he sighs, “I did not do much to hide some of the emotions on display in there. It is… a very illogical room.”

“No kidding,” Jim agrees, and then presses, “What’s wrong with Uhura’s shoes?”

Spock’s chin drops, “We will not speak of this, Jim.”

“Oh my God, are you really a fashionista underneath all that Vulcan logic?” Jim asks, smiling wide, then he stops, “Wait, have I ever looked less than sharp?”

“I can assure you, Jim, you have never looked - as you say - ‘less than sharp’.”

“But about Uhura-”

“We will not speak of this.”

Jim stops and nods, “Fair, fair. So, uh… I can’t help noticing that a lot of those Spock’s - or, some of them… some of them… I /did/ hear you speak about me possessively more than once.”

“Does it amuse you to catch me off guard?”

“And your most treasured memory is of that kiss with me,” Jim leans in and nudges Spock, “I knew you had a thing for me.”

“You speak lightly of something so intimate, all things considered.”

“You mean the whole… being raped by Klingons thing,” Jim nods slowly, “Wait, you think they actually broke me?”

Spock lifts his brows in surprise, “Jim-”

“Oh /god/, Spock. You really think I’m that easy to break?”

“You endured five thousand-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jim waves at him, interrupting him again, “I’m aware of everything that happened in there. I’m aware that I was humiliated, that there were more than two different body fluids involved, that I was put in a complete position of dependency, blah blah, PTSD, blah-”

“Why do you act as though it was merely a walk in the park, Captain?”

Jim shakes his head, “None of that bothered me,” he tells Spock, “I mean yeah, it hurt, it was awful. They had to heal torn, intimate tissue many, many, many times… torture me? That I can handle? Force me to have sex? Not the first time. Piss on me? Well… I’ve been there.”

“Jim-”

“What bothered me was the others,” Jim says firmly, eyes narrowing, “The people made to watch, the people /I/ had to watch die and be hurt and raped and tortured.”

Spock’s eyes soften, “You care so little for yourself.”

Jim shrugs, “Yeah, well, I have to.”

“Please do not,” Spock feels his heart constrict in his side, “It would pain me more than you can imagine, to lose you again. To lose you at all.”

“I’m getting that,” Jim responds and smiles again, how easily he is able to cast it on. He looks around then, “So how do we get out of here? I think I’ve invaded your thoughts enough.”

Spock pulls up his hands in the motion they are in real life, “You simply acknowledge that we are seated on the Enterprise, in my quarters, and then-”

They both open their eyes, looking at one another.

Jim’s eyes are almost black in the darkness of the room and he lets out a deep breath, “Kinda like waking up.”

“Somewhat, in the beginning,” Spock agrees.

“Thank you for letting me see, Spock,” Jim says, voice low, “You are a very organized man.”

“For a human’s standards, yes. But to other Vulcans, my mind is more chaotic than the storm inside your own.”

“How do I make it like… like… how can I access it like you do?”

“I will show you.”

Spock takes Jim’s arm and sets it back in his lap, “You must imagine it so. Listen to my voice.”

Jim closes his eyes when Spock motions for him to, and he listens to Spock’s calm, controlled tone.

“Imagine the location you wish it to be. It can be many things. But for you, it must be a place of comfort. Maybe it is also the Enterprise, maybe it is elsewhere. It can even be a planet. It can be anything you desire it to be. The rest will come naturally.”

“Okay. I… I got it.”

“For us to materialize in your mind, you must place us there, in the desired location of your mind,” Spock explains, “For me, it is always the Observation Deck, where I am most at peace. Let me know when you are ready for me to come in.”

Jim doesn’t nod, but Spock reaches up his hand and waits.

The Captain doesn’t say anything for 3.15 minutes, but then he mutters a soft ‘I’m ready’ and Spock closes his own eyes.

At once, he is in an Earth-styled home. He meets Jim’s gaze, far closer than it should be, “Jim. You have fused us.”

Jim blinks and looks down, realizing that their entire halves are connected, “Oh, woah.”

“I understand the thought sometimes passing that we are one in the same, Jim. We are, however, still separate beings.”

Jim laughs and at once they are separate, “Sorry about that. That was… really weird.”

Spock takes a step away, his arms dropping to his lower back to fold together, “The mind can be a most unusual place to dwell, Jim.”

Jim looks around the house, then motions to the stairs, “Up here?”

Spock motions for him to lead the way, “Only you know your mind, Jim.”

They walk through the broken, darkened old house, up the creaking staircase and to the second floor.

Jim stops at the first door, his jaw tightening, “I… they should all be in here.”

“Very well.”

When Jim doesn’t move, Spock presses.

“Do you not wish me to see? That is understandable, Jim. This is a very vulnerable space for you. I can go, now that I have assisted you in making it come to life so that you may-”

“No, Spock, no, don’t go,” Jim says, shaking his head, “I-... it’s just… is it weird to say I’m scared to see what’s in there?”

Spock inclines his head, “To the contrary, Captain. Memories can sometimes be quite horrific. And ones of this magnitude-”

Jim wrenches the door open and stops to stare up at the pile of boxes blocking the entrance, into the room, “Oh god, that’s a lot of boxes.”

“Your memories are unfiltered, this is as they would be.”

Jim takes down the first box, tentatively opening it and then frowning in confusion, “They’re just… pieces.”

“This may be the case for some,” Spock kneels to look through, “You can throw out some, any that you have no need for. This organization is strictly for what you need. Some of it is…”

“Fodder?”

“Unnecessary for reflection,” Spock tells him, motioning to Jim’s head, “You will not /lose/ the memory, but it will no longer come up in your daily life.”

Jim lifts up a GI Joe, “This is a memory?” he asks skeptically, “How do I activate it?”

At once, a man barrels through the two of them, knocking over the box as he shoves a memory of Jim against the wall of the house.

“Jim,” Spock starts, eyes wide, “You are making a mess.”

“Sorry,” Jim starts to pick them up as the two quarrel.

_“I’ve heard you’ve been messing around with my girlfriend.”_

_“Maybe, maybe not, what’s it to you?”_

_“She’s mine, you got that?”_

Memory Jim waves dismissively, _“Doesn’t seem much yours if she’s chasing my tail.”_

_“I’ll kill you.”_

_“Promises, promises.”_

The memory starts to repeat when Jim shakes his head and tosses the GI Joe back in the box, “God, this is a mess, how do I even start to sort through these?”

“You must provide a filter.”

“A filter?”

Spock nods, “An empty box, Jim. Perhaps many, many more than one.”

“How do I get them to manifest?”

“You can find them in another room, if it is too difficult to conjure one. That kind of skill is hard to-” Spock stops when Jim manages to make one appear in his hand.

“Huh nifty.”

They spend then next hour going through what they can, until Jim is exhausted and is forced to retreat to his room. But it isn’t without thanking his first.

“Can we do this again?” Jim asks softly, “I just… I know I shouldn’t pull from your meditation-”

“It has been quite calming and pleasing to go through this with you, Jim,” Spock assures him before he can let any more of his insecurities be known.

Jim smiles and then leans in, “Thank you, Mr. Spock,” and then he presses a gentle kiss to Spock’s left cheekbone, then to the part in Spock’s hair that is gray. And then he is gone.

Though Spock hasn’t gotten as much meditating done as he would like, he finds himself at peace for the moment, getting up from his mat and making his way over to his bed.

He reaches up mindlessly to touch his cheek, then smiles, dresses down, climbs into bed, and falls into a deep sleep.

* * *

Over the course of the next weeks, the two of them fell into a routine.

Jim was still on medical leave, but Spock would get through his day and return to his quarters to spend time in meditation with Jim.

They would eat together every moment they got, they would work in meditation until the late hours. Spock required less sleep than humans and Jim had time to sleep during the day while Spock was seeing over the Captaincy.

Together, the two of them spent hours upon hours going through the boxes in Jim's mind.

It was grueling work taking care of a mind that had never once been sorted. But in many ways it was also inspiring. It was also enlightening to view some of the memories of Jim Spock would never have known of otherwise.

Some were still very personal, and Jim would stop them before they happened. Some that he had stopped initially he would allow Spock to view later, but there were those that he kept to himself.

Spock never questioned it when it happened. There was little privacy in Jim's mind and Spock provided as much of it as he could when he could.

The first boxes were easy, but as they got deeper and darker, so too did the memories. Still, they hadn’t managed to come across any that were disturbing, or uncomfortable to watch for them both. Some of the boxes they were beginning to reach, though, had seemed to fester over time.

Jim was always very careful with these.

Some were memories of his life back in Iowa, his time before the Federation, before Starfleet. Many of them included violence and self-hate unlike anything Spock had seen before.

He never knew that Jim hated himself so much until he could hear the thoughts coming from the man himself.

It saddened Spock before he realized that a lot of the thoughts he was hearing were from a time when Jim was very unstable and insecure about himself. While he was still quite insecure, he was not so damning to himself.

Jim took time from a few particular memories to remind Spock that they were old and were far too passionate. That he would understand as they progressed. 

Spock took Jim on his word, though he was still somewhat shaken.

On the third week, Jim smiles wide when they arrive in his mind.

“I have something I wanna show you.”

Spock tilts his head, unsure how Jim could possibly have anything to show him that he had not already seen. It could be another memory, but he doubted it with the way the man stared up at him, shaking from his own excitement.

Jim leads him up the stairs as they have every day for the last twenty days now. But instead of leading him to the first room, he leads him to the second.

He opens it for Spock and motions for him to walk inside.

Spock takes a step in, his eyes widening at what he sees.

“This must've taken you hours, Jim.”

“It did.”

“You reviewed and catalogued all of these memories on your own?”

“None of them you haven’t already seen, but yeah. Took me some time, but I was finally able to get inside my own head. I can't tell you how difficult that actually is.”

“Practicing the act will result in being more effective at conducting it.” 

Jim smiles warmly at him, “Yeah, ‘practice makes you perfect’.”

Spock lifts a brow, considering the words.

He walks around the shelves, observing the memories in their shapes, “This is a most exceptional display for one that has only been sorting their mind for less than a month.”

“Thank you, Spock,” Jim joins him then, “It certainly is a start.”

“An admirable start,” Spock responds as he returns to his Captain’s side, then motions towards the door, “Shall we?”

Jim leads the way, turning on the light in the room still full of boxes for them to sort through.

* * *

Jim tosses the memory into the dump box and reaches out for another, “This is like watching paint dry.”

Spock furrows his brows, “I assure you, it is not such a tedious task, given that it is also necessary. It is my understanding that paint does not need to be watched for it to dry.”

“It’s just a saying,” Jim dismissed, holding out the next figurine, waiting for it to activate.

A memory of him appears before them, speaking fluent Russian to a class, walking back to something unseen and motioning at it.

Spock watches curiously, “I did not know that you spoke more than one Earth language.”

“I don’t if I don’t have to,” Jim responds.

A disembodied voice came from somewhere ahead of the memory Jim. She asks, in Russian, an unusually personal question for what seems like the playback of a class lecture.

_**Oh god, why is she doing this here?** _

Memory Jim’s cheeks heat, “Uh, Jessica?” he asks as his thoughts speak over himself talking (‘ _ **Just act cool, no big deal**_ ’), and in response she makes a disgusted sound of confirmation, “If you’ll speak with me after class.”

Jim groans and takes the memory, ending it and chucking it in the dump box.

Spock watches Jim curiously, “This woman and you were intimate?”

“Yeah,” Jim sighs, “Big mistake, too. She nearly got me removed from my teaching positions.”

“But she would appear as a student to you.”

“I know, I know, you wanna tell me I was bad, I was wrong to sleep with her,” Jim trails off, shaking his head, “You’re not wrong. I was. But that was what was so appealing about it.”

“Captain,” Spock’s eyes widen, “Are you implying that you had intercourse with a student /because/ of the power position you held over her and its taboo amongst your people?”

Jim winces, “Well, when you say it like that.”

“Saying it in any way does not change the act itself.”

“She started it.”

Spock is silent for a moment, and then presses on tentatively, “Started what?”

“I tried to ignore her for months,” Jim explains himself, “I knew it was wrong. I’m not stupid, but she was… really persistent, and persuasive.”

“If it was something you did not want to do, then it is easy to not do.”

“Not when she cornered me in the class while I was grading papers alone and took her clothes off.”

Spock’s eyes widen again, the tips of his ears coloring and he looks away, “We… should… continue forward, regardless.”

Jim picks up the next memory, activating it quickly and then sighing when it starts to play back exactly what he’d just explained to his first officer, “See?”

Spock observes the memory with stunned fascination.

_**I’m gonna get fired.** _

The woman speaks as she undresses, “I’m tired of playing this cat and mouse game with you, James,” then removes her bra.”

 _ **Oh god, oh god,**_ his thoughts spoke over his own voice once more, _**this isn’t right.**_

 ** __** _“Oh, god, Jessica, please put your clothes back on,”_ Jim starts to stand from the desk, but she’s just lifted the shirt she’s wearing and removed her panties. She gives him a flash of the skin underneath before walking over to him.

She kisses him, pushing him back down in his seat and her left hand reaches out, grabbing him between the legs, _“That’s the best part. Now why don’t you be a /man/ already?”_

Jim sits outside of the memory, forgetting how the next part plays out before it happens.

Memory Jim only blinks as Jessica unbuttons and unzips his pants, starting to pull him out. But then he stands quickly, grabbing her neck and shoving her down against the desk.

“Jesus, fuck!” real Jim startles when his memory lifts the woman’s skirt and thrusts his still hardening penis into her.

He tries to deactivate the memory but it drops from his hand, down into the box, continuing to play as he scrambles to pick it back up.

Spock watches in horrid awe as memory Jim fucks Jessica with wild abandon, his eyes narrowed to slits.

The memory ceases and both Jim and Spock look at one another in silence for a long minute.

“Can we just pretend that didn’t happen?”

Spock swallows tightly, “I am unsure as to whether it is possible to remove such a thing from my memory.”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Jim apologizes, “I’m sorry. I guess I should’ve known it’d be… a matter of time before we found something like this. Let’s… just… move on. Next one can’t be nearly as bad.”

The second he activates it, he nearly shoves his foot in his mouth.

The memory of him and a woman roll around in sheets, her moving to straddle him, her large breasts bouncing with her movements.

_**Yeah, that’s more like-** _

Jim stops the memory and shoves his palms against his eyes, “Okay, okay. Fuck. Sorry.”

Spock blinks a few times, looking away as well, then glancing down into the box, “Perhaps this is a box full of your trysts. There has been some minor consistency with the contents of each box. Though, I suppose that is to be expected - that when you manifested them, some would be grouped together with how you associate them inside your mind.”

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Jim agrees.

“Perhaps you would like to view them privately, at your leisure.”

“Let’s try one more before assuming,” Jim concludes first, “Could’ve just been a coincidence.”

Spock inclines his head, “Please proceed, Jim.”

Jim smiles at Spock and then takes up another of the figures and activates it.

_**I’m gonna die before my shift ends.** _

Memory Jim is seated in the Captain’s chair. The only other figure provided by the memory is Spock.

Standing before Jim, holding out a PADD for him to sign, _“Would you prefer to have copies of these sent to your quarters for thorough viewing at a later time, Captain?”_

_“Please, Mr. Spock.”_

As he spoke, the thoughts rushed in with them: _ **I would /prefer/ to have /you/ sent to my quarters for thorough viewing at a-fuuuuuck.**_

Jim’s face heats just as memory Jim’s does and then memory Spock turns away, bending to speak with the invisible presence of Chekov.

_**Just present your ass to me, will you. I can’t concentrate with all these distractions.** _

**__** _“Mr. Spock, you have the conn.”_

_“Yes, Captain.”_

Memory Spock turns to look curiously, but Jim’s already up and walking to the turbolift.

The memory ends, starts to repeat, and Jim stops it, a look of blatant betrayal on his face as he shoves it in the box and pushes the box away from the both of them, “I’ll… view these later, on my own.”

Spock, sitting silent across from him, trying to remain expressionless, nods subtly, “Yes, Jim.”

* * *

Between them, there have been two kisses. The one they indulged in before Jim was captured by the Klingons and the one kiss to Spock’s cheek the first night they reformed their bond.

Spock was patient, but seeing Jim’s memories of being involved in sexual bliss, and that paired with the immediate memory following, of him observing Spock’s backside… it made his own self-reflection somewhat difficult to partake in without getting… sidetracked.

He observes the Spock that normally fights with Jim, hitting him over and over again. But instead of fighting-

“Spock.”

Spock looks up as the ship shudders.

He opens his eyes slowly, “Jim.”

“Sorry, god, I-”

“You do not need to apologize, Jim.”

“I already take up enough of your time to meditate.”

Spock turns on his knees, looking up to his Captain and releasing a slight, almost imperceptible smile, “How can I be of service, Jim?”

“I found a memory in… in that box that I…” Jim sat, crossing his legs, “I wanted to share it with you.”

Spock’s eyes widen only slightly, unable to imagine why anything from that box would be something Jim felt he could share with him.

“Yes, Jim?”

“If you would join me.”

Spock nods and reaches his hand out, entering Jim’s mind as he has so many times now.

He follows Jim up the stairs to the box Jim had been filtering through.

“I kept thinking about your rec room,” Jim tells him as he lifts the blue and gold rock and showing it to Spock.

“The semi-precious stone: Lapis Lazuli,” Spock observes and Jim smiles.

“You’re even familiar with earth’s gemstones?”

“I have always found this particular stone’s colors pleasing. The color it attains when it is ground is one of the most pure pigments of natural ultramarine I have ever seen, across all planets. When synthesized, I have found it to be… lacking.”

Jim smiles gently and nods, “I can’t have said it better myself, Mr. Spock.”

Spock inclines his head and Jim activates the memory.

At once, it is familiar.

It is strange, however, that he had just been viewing this one of his own - albeit… a bit different of a take now.

_**He just lost his planet.** _

“What is it with you, Spock? Hmm?” the memory of Kirk asks angrily, “Your planet was just destroyed, your mother murdered, and you're not even upset.”

_**He is emotionally compromised.** _

“If you are presuming that these experiences in any way impede my ability to command this ship, you are mistaken.” _**He’s onto me already. Fuck, this won’t be easy.**_

“And yet you were the one who said fear was necessary for command. I-, d-did you see his ship? Do you see what he did?”

The memory of Spock only now begins to show the sign of being somewhat shaken, “Yes, of course I did.” “So are you afraid or aren't you?”

_**Get him to show it.** _

“I will not allow you to lecture me about the merits of emotion,” Spock responds calmly.

_**Get him to show it.** _

“Then why don't you stop me?”

_**Get him to show it.** _

“Step away from me, Mr. Kirk.”

_**Please don’t make me break you.** _

“What is it like not to feel anger or heartbreak?” _ **He’s gonna hate me.**_ “Or the need, to stop at nothing, to avenge the death of the woman who gave birth to you.”

“Back away from me.”

_**He already hates me.** _

**__**_“You feel nothing!”_ the memory of Jim shouts into Spock’s face, _“It must not even compute for you.”_

Spock closes his eyes, waiting for the final words to hit.

_**Say it. God, just say it and get it over with. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Spock.** _

**__** _“You never loved her!”_

And then Spock roared in anger, swinging his fist out and hitting Jim hard in the face, knocking him off his feet and into one of the other crewmates on the bridge.

_**I deserved that.** _

Spock grabs him in both hands, throwing him around and, try as he might, it was all Jim could do to block the onslaught that follows.

Jim glances from the memory to look at Spock, the horror on Spock’s own face as he attacks Jim, as he starts to choke him out. He ends the memory when they hear his father’s voice.

“I /am/ sorry, Spock,” Jim says softly in the silence of the house, “I know what I did was… was messed up and uncalled for and-”

“Necessary,” Spock tells him, shaking his head.

When Jim reaches his hand up, Spock nearly backs away, but stills when the fingers press to his cheek.

“You’re crying.”

Spock visibly shakes, eyes wide as he reaches up as well, for proof of it himself. Yes, he is crying.

He dismisses them quickly and smiles sadly at Jim, “Thank you for showing this to me, Jim. But I am reminded, once again, that you are trying to put my own thoughts to rest when you have been through so much. Your efforts would be better spent-”

“Shut up, Spock. That’s an order,” Jim responds, “You’re so focused on me you don’t even stop to think about yourself in this situation.”

“To what are you referring?”

Jim pulls them both out of his mind, startling Spock for only a moment when he realizes that the other man has done it.

He blinks when he sees Jim’s gaze go up, touching his hairline.

“You said it was… like losing a limb.”

“That is correct, Jim,” Spock confirms.

“Which is also really traumatic,” Jim tells him, brows furrowing, “It wasn’t just me that went through all of this. You were just as much a victim as I was.”

“I have taken care of myself during this time, Jim,” Spock assures him, “Had you seen me at the start, it may have been more clear, but I have already made the changes to myself as they were necessary.”

Jim leans in closer, the hair twirling between his fingers, and then he stops.

Spock swallows, heart rate increasing by six more beats per minute, eyes itching with the buildup of fluids.

“Do you wanna kiss me, Mr. Spock?”

Spock lets out a low sigh, then nods, “Jim.”

“I want you to.”

“Jim,” he says firmly, gaze darkening.

“I’m yours, Mr. Spock.”

Spock leans in the rest of the way, their lips meeting in heat and desperation. He rises slightly, towering over Jim, pressing him back, the Captain’s body arching.

He doesn’t understand how so much of the same thing can be so entirely different. With Nyota, he felt nothing. But with Jim, the first kiss, he felt longing. With the second, he felt peace. Now, now he feels desire deep inside, rising up.

Spock reaches one hand out to cup Jim’s chin, the other bracing his shoulder.

Jim’s own hands take purchase around his torso, trying to pull him in. And then his mouth opens. The act of it catching Spock off guard. He gasps, Jim’s tongue probing his mouth quickly, wet and colder than his own, a welcome intrusion as it touches his tongue.

The feel of it is foreign, but deeply arousing, eliciting a low groan in Spock’s throat.

He shoves Jim down, climbing over him. Jim’s already spread legs uncross and welcome him between them.

“Spock,” Jim whimpers, one hand touching the back of Spock’s neck as he breaks the kiss only to start another, and then another.

Spock is not initially prepared to end such an act, but he finds that doing it over and over again can be just as pleasing as the act itself. Fascinating.

He grabs Jim’s arms, shoving them up above his head and holding them in place with one hand, the free one dropping down to grab his face. He holds his Captain down, kissing him hard and deep, biting his bottom lip to hear those soft whimpers again.

Jim submits to him, their bodies flush, shifting together like the ebb and flow of a river, uniforms getting ruffled in the slow movements.

Spock can feel the hard erection pressing upward against his stomach, and finally he pulls back to catch his breath.

He stares down at the beautiful man beneath him.

Jim’s eyes are wide, the blue of them glowing with adoration and lust. The freckles on his face are more prominent now than ever before. His whole body shudders as he watches Spock, hips ceasing their rolling movements, chest heaving for air.

“Jim,” Spock pants against his Captain’s face, their noses barely touching now.

Jim smiles at his voice, “That good?”

“I do not have the words. I can not find them.”

“Tell me about it, Spock.”

“As I have already said,” Spock lets out a gust of breath, the action causing Jim to look at his mouth, “It would be illogical to repeat what I have only just told you.”

Jim laughs and moves his hands up, running them through Spock’s hair, leaning up to kiss along Spock’s chin and jaw, “It’s a rhetorical phrase that kind of translates as ‘I know what you mean’.”

Spock closes his eyes, leaning into the touch and allowing himself to get lost in it for the moment. It never occurred to him that something so simple could feel so pleasurable when done in the presence of a lover. And, while he had been with Nyota, their companionship had been not nearly as intimate as most had assumed.

Jim stops kissing him finally, nose nudging the curve of Spock’s throat, “Your hair is /so/ soft.”

Spock lifts a brow, “I… tell me about it.”

Jim laughs again, harder this time, the feeling of it rippling through the both of them.

Spock kisses the corner of Jim’s mouth. It’s illogical, but he wants to see if he can taste the laughter before it’s gone.

They hold one another for a long time before Spock finally straightens them both up, sitting back on his heels and folding his hands in his lap.

Jim swallows tight, shifting his pants, “I don’t know how you can do all that and just be so calm.” 

“Would you prefer I assist you in attaining relief?”

“Only if you really want to,” Jim says in a low voice that causes the hairs on the back of Spock’s neck to stand and his heart rate to increase once more, this time four more beats per minute.

“I am, as always, at your disposal, Captain,” Spock tells him, then he leans in and grabs Jim by the back of the neck, pulling him in until their bodies press together once more.

Jim’s eyes widen, hands out, staring up at Spock as he trails his hand down the front of Jim’s black shirt.

He bunches up the fabric to unzip the front of Jim’s slacks, feeling his Captain tense just before his fingers brush the head of the engorged organ.

“Spock,” Jim breathes out, sounding surprised though there was no possible way he wasn’t aware of what was going to happen.

Spock stares into his broken expression, his flushed cheeks, his dark freckles, the trembling bottom lip, and then he grasps Jim’s penis at the head. He observes the other man closely, taking in every minute change in his face, every squint, every soft whimper that escapes his swollen lips.

“Oh, Spock,” Jim arches into him, but Spock holds his hips with his other hand, “Please.”

“You do not need to beg, Jim,” Spock assures him, teasing his lips with his own, but never kissing, “I will help you in achieving completion, you do not need to beg.”

Jim breaks off in a shaking whimper, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

He is so vulnerable like this, so desperate, and Spock presses their heads together, speaking low, “You need not beg, ashaya.”

“Oh… god,” Jim’s hands finally touch him, grasping his shoulders, “Spock!”

“I am here,” Spock assures him, gaze lowered and then he moves his own hand up to cradle the back of Jim’s head, pulling back to lock their eyes once more, “I am yours, I will never leave you.”

Jim scrabbles his hands down, fists gripping the front of Spock’s shirt, “Spock! Spock?”

“Yes, Jim?”

“Please-”

Spock leans in to cut off the plea, kissing Jim with heat and love, the stiff erection still in his grasp shuddering with them both before its release.

* * *

“He’s showing signs of malnutrition, but he’ll make it, Jim.”

“That’s all I wanna hear, Bones,” Jim turns to Spock then, smiling brightly, “Should we beam down? Get some fresh air?”

Spock nods imperceptibly, “It has occured to me that you might want to depart from the ship while the Enterprise goes through its routine cargo exchange. I have, therefore, prepared a list of places that you might be interested in visiting, as well as a few restaurant establishments that do not use replicators-”

“Spock, are you asking me out on a date?” Jim asks as they turn from Bones, the doctor throwing them a disgusted expression of shock and horror that Jim misses but Spock takes note of before they leave.

Spock tilts his head somewhat, but decides to indulge his Captain instead of, as he’s put it before, ‘stringing him along’, “It would not be illogical to come to that conclusion, Captain.”

“Then let’s get a move on,” Jim’s smile meets his eyes, “I’m more than prepared to date the fuck out of you, Mr. Spock.”

“Date the-” Spock’s eyes widen when Chekov greets them in the transporter room.

“Are you two leaving the ship as vell, Keptin?” he asks, grinning.

Jim nods, “Yes, Chekov.”

They stop to speak with him, Spock standing at Jim’s immediate right.

“Sulu and I haf been vaiting to giff their local bar a try. Any chance ve could convince you to join us tonight, Keptin?”

Jim considers it, “They have any localized alcohol that isn’t already mainstream?”

Spock continues to listen to them speaking as his gaze drops and he feels his eyebrow twitch before reaching out over Jim to his other shoulder, removing his insignia and replacing it so that it’s straight.

He looks back up when he hears Jim say: “I’ll go if Spock goes.”

“As you are already aware, Jim, Vulcans are not affected by-”

“Blah blah blah,” Jim waves his hand, “Alcohol isn’t just about getting drunk. It’s also about socializing. Enjoying the company of friends.”

“Yes, Keptin.”

Spock considers it and then nods, “As the following undeterminable hours have been already put aside as time we will be spending together on the starbase, it is only logical that I accompany you so that I can escort you back to the Enterprise later tonight.”

Chekov’s eyes light up, “You vill join us, Spock?”

“Mr. Chekov, you will address me as-”

“He will,” Jim cuts in, nudging Spock in the arm, “Come on, man, you don’t pull rank when you go out for beers.”

Chekov blushes and excuses himself, leaving them standing there together as Spock looks blankly at Jim.

“My apologies, Captain,” Spock says as they finally continue walking, “I am not too familiar with where these lines begin and end sometimes.”

“They can be blurry,” Jim agrees, “I’m not really in the mood to start discussing companionable etiquette for you, Mr. Spock - way too much to cover. Are you comfortable with learning as we go?”

Spock nods in agreement, “I am more than comfortable with attaining knowledge whenever it is presented to me, so long as you make sure that it is apparent I am observing a tradition of sorts.”

“Will do,” Jim nudges him, “Where to first?”

“Neither of us have had lunch so far today, it would only be logical to dine in one of the many establishments. I know of one close by that should be up to your standards, Captain.”

“Jim, please,” Jim clears his throat, “We’re out of the ship, we’re on a date.”

“You addressed me as ‘Mr. Spock’ only ten point-”

Jim smiles, “I like to call you ‘Mr. Spock’ sometimes because it’s what we humans call ‘flirting’, /Mr. Spock/.”

Spock hears the tone change at his name, his fingers tingling and he looks at Jim, “Have you always flirted with me when you’ve called me by this title?”

“Mostly, yes,” Jim admits shamelessly, motioning ahead, “Here?”

“Yes, Jim,” Spock nods as Jim starts to lead their steps, “I do, as well, find some pleasure in referring to you as ‘Captain’,” he shares, to put both of their admissions on a level field.

“Why, Mr. Spock,” Jim holds the door for Spock, staring up at him with those eyes, the expression on his face playful and filled with blatant joy, “I had no idea.”

Spock lifts a brow, stepping through the door first, feeling the brush of Jim’s body against his back and he nods to the woman that comes up to them.

“Two?”

“Please,” Spock inclines his head and they follow her.

“Classy,” Jim observes, and though Spock cannot see his face, he can hear the approval in his tone, “I haven’t seen a restaurant manned in a long, long time.”

“Your waitress will be with you in a moment.”

Spock pulls out the seat for Jim, taking the one across it and pulling up the menu, “That is one of the reasons I chose it from the ones they have on this starbase. Many of them /are/ self-serve or automated. I understand that this is how establishments on Earth used to be.”

“Some still are,” Jim shrugs, “Where I grew up in Iowa, there were-”

“Can I get you two something to drink?” the waitress asks as she joins them at the table, taking up her notebook.

“Water, please,” Spock says, watching Jim with only a slight smile.

“Any chance you guys have pop?”

The waitress motions to the menu.

“Oh god, okay, awesome, I’ll have a coke.”

“Diet or-”

“No, no, I wouldn’t dare. Classic, please.”

“You two still need a moment to look at the menu?”

“Yes, please,” Jim says, face already buried in it.

Spock watches the woman leave and folds his hands together on the table, “I was unaware that you would drink something so volatile.”

“Once in a while,” Jim shrugs, “Gotta indulge that sweet tooth or you’ll never be happy.”

“I admit I have never tried it myself.”

Jim nods, “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me,” he glances at Spock, “I guess that’s one of the reasons people don’t like manned establishments.”

“To what are you referring, Jim?”

“Her interrupting us.”

Spock lifts his brows, “Ah, I can understand that the human interaction can be most unusual when you are partaking in a meal.”

“And a date, flirting, admitting things you don’t talk about with anyone else.”

“One can only imagine the conversations they have overheard in the past.”

“Exactly.”

“You were saying, about Iowa,” Spock offers then.

“Iowa?” Jim asks, confused for a moment, “Oh, yeah. There were still a lot of manned restaurants in Iowa where I lived. Even the McDonalds were.”

Spock blinks a few times, “I cannot imagine.”

“You really couldn’t.”

“I was unsure, but I thought you might prefer the human interactions, yourself.”

“I do,” Jim says and smiles, the expression warm, “Thank you, Spock. You put just as much thought in this day as you do everything else, didn’t you?”

“I always do, Jim.”

Jim wets his lips, “You are always so efficient.”

“Tell me about it.”

Jim laughs, opening his menu when the woman finally comes back to their table to take their orders.

* * *

The rest of the day they visit more of the places Spock had highlighted, a few shops and museums, an art display, and finally dinner.

Once they’re out of the doors, Jim turns back to Spock, waiting for him to join in step.

“How much longer we got ‘til we join Chekov and Sulu?”

“One hour, thirteen minutes and twelve-”

“How far away is it?”

“A brief walk, Jim,” Spock motions his hand to their left, “Fifteen minutes at most.”

Jim nods, “Not bad. I’m gonna assume you’ve considered what to do with the remaining hour?”

“I have.”

Jim opens his arms out, “Very well then, lead the way.”

Spock reaches out, touching the small of Jim’s back and guiding him to their right.

The lights lit up along the path have been lowered to accommodate the starbase’s inhabitants, giving it the feel of night despite there not needing to be such a thing.

It takes Jim 3.45 minutes to realize where they’re headed and he steps in closer to Spock, a gasp escaping his mouth as he stares ahead in awe.

“Spock,” he says, hands jumping up to his mouth.

Spock doesn’t bother to hide his own enjoyment in the reaction, his hand still at Jim’s back, “I thought you would be pleased.”

“It’s…” Jim stares out, getting visibly impatient as they grow closer. Spock can tell he’s barely containing himself not to run, “My god, it’s all so beautiful.”

“From what I have seen, the outside pales in comparison to what awaits you inside.”

Jim looks at Spock with something akin to glee, “It’s open at night?”

“Jim,” Spock says lowly, “I do not think that they could close it at night if they wished. The reviews say that it is /best/ viewed at night.”

“Because of all the fluorescent plants?”

“Indeed.”

Jim smiles so wide as they reach the entrance, the hanging vines placed wide enough apart to allow people through.

Spock looks up in wonder at the biodome ceiling, Jim moving in close against him as they walk down the paths together.

“Leave the best for last,” Jim breathes out when they finally come to a halt, staring out at a long, winding waterfall. He looks up at Spock and searches his face, “I see how it is.”

Spock allows another smile to grace his face, just enough for Jim to appreciate. He looks at Jim as well, then reaches up the hand from Jim’s back to cup his face and lean down to press their lips together.

Jim’s free hand reaches up to grab the front of Spock’s jacket, pulling him into it more.

The kiss deepens, Spock’s free arm moving to grip Jim’s waist. He pulls back, kissing Jim again and again, then finally resting their heads together.

“Not sure how you’re gonna top this date, Spock. You aimed pretty high.”

“I feel you have mistakenly underestimated my capabilities, Jim. This is merely the first, and possibly least effective, plot I have put together from an intricate list designed to elicit such joy from you through courtship. It will only get better from here as this one was unexpected and spur of the moment, or - as you’ve said in the past - manifested by ‘throwing caution to the wind’.”

Jim starts to respond when he realizes they have an audience. A… rather large audience.

They turn together to see Leslie and Chapel, Jaylah and Scotty, and Uhura and McCoy watching them from across the water.

“Jesus Christ, I thought you two were kidding,” Bones says before he starts cursing.

“I am honored to view such a coupling,” Jaylah bows slightly to them, “You may begin.”

Jim blinks, “Begin what?”

“I believe Ms. Jaylah is under the impression that we are to partake in copulation here in the biodome.”

“What?” Jim’s mouth fights to make words, “What? Why is that assumed? Where does that even come from?”

Jaylah watches them in annoyance, “You have already started the mating process, are we not to be viewing-”

“That’s no’ how they do things, lassy,” Scotty chimes in, laughing.

“But I want to see it, Montgomery Scotty.”

Chapel starts to nod in agreement before she’s cut off from saying anything further on the subject.

“I don’t,” Bones gags, “God, I don’t. Please don’t do that to me.”

“Dr. McCoy, it is illogical to conclude from this conversation that we would be so intimate out in the open, for others viewing pleasure.”

“Not to mention we haven’t even done it yet.”

Scotty gasps in astonishment, “Well why no’? You two are both strapping young men with active, adventurous libidos. Well… one of ye at least.”

“Nope, it’s both of us,” Jim tells him, smirking.

“Really?” Uhura crosses her arms.

Spock’s cheeks heat, “I do not approve of the direction of this conversation.”

“Anyone else not even know they were together?” Leslie finally asks and all six of them raise their hands.

“Well,” Jim shouts, throwing his arms out, “You guys wanna join us for a beer?”

All of them make sounds of glee, except for Leonard, who continues to gag until Uhura smacks him on the back and glares at him.

“Get yourself together already,” she growls, “This night isn’t about them.”

“Right, sorry,” McCoy says and then coughs a few times to clear his throat, “Sorry, Nyota.”

Jim smiles at Spock’s side as the two groups join together to leave the biodome, “Jaylah,” he reaches out to shake hands with her, “Always nice to see you.”

“You too, James T., it has been some time.”

“You and Scotty, huh?”

“He is a funny man,” Jaylah tells him, “And he has a really large penis.”

Jim blinks in shock, mouth dropping.

Spock considers the compliment and meets Scotty’s own wide gaze, “Congratulations, Mr. Scott.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks, Mr. Spock.”

Spock inclines his head.

“So you and Spock, huh?” Uhura asks from behind Jim and Spock glances back to see the look of annoyance on her face, “You two haven’t had sex, but you’ve been involved sexually?”

Spock’s brows narrow slightly as he considers the question, “Our personal-”

“He jerked me off,” Jim confirms.

Uhura smacks Spock’s shoulder, “What the hell, Spock? You-”

“Hey, don’t get mad at him because we’ve done more in less than a month than you two had in... what? Two years?”

“Jim,” Spock warns him.

“I’m not mad about that,” Uhura says, meeting Jim’s eyes, “He took advantage of you after everything you went through-”

Jim interrupts her by bursting into laughter, “You-” he continues laughing, “You… you think he took advantage of /me/?”

Uhura blinks as a few of the others start to laugh as well.

“I assure you, Nyota,” Spock chimes in, “Jim was very insistent, just as well - he was enthusiastic and compliant. He requested it of me numerous times, even during the act itself.”

“Spock!” Jim smacks his arm, eyes wide.

“Oh god, I don’t need to be hearin’ any of this,” Bones complains.

“I could stand to hear more.”

Everyone looks at Leslie in surprise and he shrugs.

“What? They’re both attractive men.”

“They are,” Jaylah agrees, “I would ask to be viewing of the mating of you two.”

“That’s so not happening,” Jim says as the look of pleasure on Jaylah’s face persists, “Stop it, stop imagining it.”

The conversation continues on for some time, turning towards the topic of Bones and Uhura being together, and finally they reach the bar.

Chekov waves them over to the table, eyes wide when he sees all of the others come in behind Jim and Spock.

“Vow, so many!” he observes, then turns to Sulu, “How exciting, a reunion!”

Spock observes the full bar, doing his best to keep away from the crowds of people passing them. Then Jim’s arm finds his other side and pulls him in, guarding him.

“Touch telepath coming through,” he raises his voice, the people hearing him parting for them to get through with little difficulty.

Spock doesn’t speak until they’re seated, when he leans to Jim, “Thank you, Jim.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Spock,” Jim says as he takes one of the drinks offered, giving one to Spock and clinking them together, “To the first on the list.”

The others shout the words, lifting their glasses, though they fail to understand what Jim means by what he says.

Spock lifts his own glass, then starts drinking and doesn’t stop until the glass is empty.

Everyone at the table watches him in awe and Jim pats him loudly on the back.

“That’s the spirit, Mr. Spock,” he says, his glass still mostly full.

“That was quite a feat, Spock,” Scotty tells him, coughing when he takes another sip himself, “It’s a strong ale, I’m surprised you managed to get it all down without taking a break halfway.”

“Tell me about it.”

Leslie, Sulu, and Chekov stop talking, everyone looking at Spock before they all raise their glasses, laughing.

“Tell me about it!” they shout together and Spock takes the second glass offered to him by McCoy and downs it as well.

He doesn’t understand the point of repeating the words and raising a glass to them - especially phrases that mean very little, but it seems to be a human tradition.

“You look a lo’ bettah, Jimmy-boy,” Scotty says, slapping his back, “I admit, I was a wee bit worried you might come back from the Klingons and we’d be without our faithful Captain.”

“I’m way too stubborn to let those hard-heads get to me,” Jim tells him, smiling.

Spock tenses at the touchy subject, prepared to interject at any given moment, “Thank you,” he says when McCoy gives him another full glass. He doesn’t like the taste, but he humors them, as Jim told him it was about the interaction, not the alcohol itself.

“To comin’ ou’ the other end,” Scotty says and the others repeat him, raising their glasses.

Afterwards, Spock realizes he’s on his fourth glass and Jim has only just finished his first, the others as well. Perhaps he has overlooked the consumption necessary for this sort of toasting.

Jim gives him his fourth glass, winking at him.

“Let’s get you a little high,” he says and taps the glass, “I believe your kryptonite is mint chocolate, right?”

“What is kryptonite, Jim?”

“Your weakness,” Leslie explains.

Spock blinks at Jim and then looks at the glass curiously. He’s never partook. But then he looks at Jim again, the mischievous expression on his human’s face. If he were to get drunk, he would only ever trust Jim to be the one to take care of him, to make sure that nothing happened to him while he was inebriated.

“Not particularly, Captain,” Spock says, then lifts his glass to the others, “It is the sucrose.”’

The group at large looks at him and his raised glass, then they all laugh and do the same.

“It is the sucrose!”

Spock is tentative this time, neck craning forward, eyes widening as he sips.

Jim watches him as he drinks his own, “Good?”

“It does taste pleasing,” Spock observes, “This is… I believe, a whiskey?”

“Aye, it is, Mr. Spock” Scotty tells him, “And it’s no’ Scotch Whisky, it’s bourbon. Still, it’ll put hair on yer chest.”

“Mr. Scott,” Spock lifts his brows, “I fail to understand how any kind of liquid meant for consumption would make hair grow upon my torso. Furthermore, as I already have grown a plethora of hair over my pectoral region, I am not concerned as to whether or not it would do so in the first place.”

Jim starts chuckling, hiccuping slightly and taking another sip of his drink as others join him.

“He means ‘it’ll make you a man’,” McCoy growls out, knocking back a small shot of something else.

“I am also already a man,” Spock muses, “Though I am, I suppose, barely out of infancy if you are to go by Vulcan standards.”

“Can we please talk about the fact that you have hair on your chest?” Jim asks then, leaning over the table to look at Spock.

“We can, Jim, if that is what you prefer to talk about.”

Jim looks at Uhura, “Have you seen-”

“Nope.”

“He’s not kidding,” McCoy says, getting everyone’s attention, “I have to do his physical exams, the man is like an ape.”

“Are his nipples green?” Jim shrugs when all eyes turn to him, “What? It’s a fair question.”

“Captain,” Spock responds, trying to make him see reason, “Is this a question to ask within our current company?”

“Do you shave a lot?” Jim asks then, “You look like you shave a lot.”

“Three times a day, Jim,” Spock tells him, taking another sip of his beverage.

Jim’s eyebrows shoot up, “Holy shit. How do you find the time to do it? I hate even having to do it once.”

“Tell me about it, Jim. It can become quite tedious,” Spock confirms, “Once in the morning, once during our afternoon lunch, and once more during the second break afterwards.”

“How did ye program him to start saying ‘tell me about it’, Cap’n?”

Jim and Spock turn their attention to Scotty.

“I dunno he just picked it up and hasn’t stopped using it since,” Jim shrugs, “Out of all the things he could adapt, I’m sad to know it doesn’t involve a few expletives or something.”

Uhura nearly chokes on her drink and wipes her mouth, “I tried to get that to happen,” she tells them, “Spock is really bad at curse words.”

“Sometimes it fails me to place their location within a sentence,” Spock admits to everyone’s amusement, taking another sip of his drink.

“Our fights sometimes couldn’t be taken seriously,” Uhura continues, smiling, “Even when I was pissed off at him. ‘I wanted the hell to accompany the damn Captain and the fucked landing party, Nyota’.”

Everyone bursts into laughter, Jim included, and Spock ducks his head only slightly, frowning when they all start to raise their glasses.

“The hell to accompany,” they say together, Spock unable to ascertain how they knew which phrase was going to be said, but he raises his own glass nevertheless.

Out of reflex, or perhaps muscle memory, he forgets himself for just a moment and chugs down the rest of the drink as he had the ones before.

He realizes it the very second the liquid goes down, and then his wide eyes meet Jim’s.

“Oh god, you just did that.”

“I did, Jim.”

“I don’t know how effective that stuff is on Vulcans.”

Spock licks his lips, setting the glass down, “Well, seeing as your own drinks will affect you as well, and you have now almost gone through two glasses yourself, I think that it is be in all fairness that I drink the drink with the drink the same as you, Jim.”

Most of the people at the table look at Spock in amused horror, having never heard him so much as stammer, let alone butcher a sentence completely.

“What?” Jim snorts and starts laughing, slapping Spock’s back, “Are you okay there, Spock?”

“I apologize, Jim,” Spock inclines his head, “I may have lost track of what I was trying to…” he starts waving his hand over and over again, “Trying to… imply? No. Trying to… I lost track of what I was saying.”

“You /just/ took that chug and you’re already done,” Jim observes, “You’re drunker than me.”

“I do not think you are even drunk, Jim.”

“Buzzed,” Jim shrugs.

Spock closes his eyes when his vision starts to lose its sharpness, “Perhaps we… should take our leave.”

“I think so, Mr. Spock,” Jim leans over, helping him to his feet and saying his goodbyes to the rest of the people at the table.

They all lift their glasses, “To Jim.”

Spock leans into Jim nearly the entire walk back, finally collecting himself enough to stand upright and walk on his own.

He straightens his shirt, checking himself over before giving Jim his attention once more, “Is it safe to assume that this day has been pleasing for you, Jim?”

“It has been.”

“I am gratified to hear that.”

“Especially everything following dinner,” Jim tells him, “Maybe not so much our subordinates catching us in the garden. But… well, you gotta get it where you can.”

“Indeed.”

They finally reach the ship, Jim joining him in his room for the moment, perhaps to say goodnight.

“It was a very lovely evening, Mr. Spock,” he says, smiling warmly, “How are you feeling after that last drink? Not too tipsy, I hope.”

Spock moves quickly, grabbing Jim and pressing him against the closed door, their lips crushing together. His hands grip Jim’s hips hard, pulling them flush as he forces the Captain’s lips apart and shoves his tongue in Jim’s mouth.

Jim lets out a broken whimper, Spock is unsure if it’s approval or otherwise, “Spock,” he manages out between their mouths.

Spock shoves Jim’s shirt up to his armpits, kissing down his smooth chest, biting here and there, leaving teeth marks over Jim’s left nipple before dropping to his knees.

“Oh, fuck,” Jim arches, his head hitting the door and his hands gripping Spock’s hair.

As his hips start to shift and arch, Spock grabs him to hold him still, pulling his penis free with his other hand. His vision is still blurry, need burning inside of him, and he takes the soft tissue into his mouth, feeling it start to harden against his tongue.

“Fuck!”

Jim tries to buck again, but Spock keeps him pressed firm against the door, consuming as much of the length he can.

It only takes a moment, Spock is unsure how long, but then he hears that familiar sob, the hands in his hair pull, the bitter taste of cum filling his mouth and he pulls back curiously.

He swirls it around in his mouth, considering it before swallowing - he’s tasted worse, even today. And then he proceeds to lick Jim clean before standing back up.

Spock leans in to kiss him again, tucking him back in his pants, “Goodnight, Jim.”

Jim smiles up at him, still breathless, “/Good/night, Mr. Spock.”

* * *

When Spock wakes the next morning, the events of the night before come back into his mind in a rush and he sits upright quickly.

No.

He had behaved so poorly when they got back to the ship. He had forced himself upon his Captain, taken advantage of him in their inebriated states. Not once in his life has he found himself drunk, or felt so much shame for his own actions.

Spock starts to place his face in his hands, contemplating getting up to meditate early when a knock sounds from the bathroom adjoining his room with the Captain’s.

He collects himself, schooling his expression, “Come in, please, Captain.”

Jim cracks the door open, peeking his head in, “Good morning, Spock.”

“Good morning, Jim.”

“So uh…” Jim clears his throat, “We need to talk.”

Spock nods imperceptibly, registering as the ache settles in his side. He feels the dread building, resisting the urge to clench the covers of his bed in his fists, “Yes, Jim, I believe we do.”

“Good, so we’re on the same page.”

“We are.”

Jim comes into the room, closing the bathroom door and putting his hands on his hips, “I just-”

“If you would allow me to speak first, Jim.”

Jim stops and then motions for Spock to continue, “Ah, yes, if you would enlighten me, Mr. Spock.”

“I wish to extend my apologies,” Spock tells him, trying to convey his sincerity without becoming unhinged, “It was never my intention to put you in such an uncomfortable predica-”

“Not at all, Spock,” Jim smiles, “I completely understand. I was just wondering-”

“I did not mean to take advantage of you, Jim,” Spock apologizes more profusely, “After everything you have been through, what I did has no excuse under any circumstances. I understand fully-”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Jim says over and over again until Spock ceases speaking, then he puts his raised hand back on his hip, “What… are… are you apologizing for last night? When we got back to the ship?”

“I… yes, Jim. Of course. That is what you meant to speak to me about, is it not?”

Jim smiles and shakes his head, “No, no, not at all. Forget about that. That’s fine. That was nice. That was very, /very/ nice, Mr. Spock,” he clears his throat, the smile dropping from his face once more, “I wanna know why you moved my insignia.”

Spock blinks a few times in silence, staring at him, “You… are prompting me with concern about the moment we met with Ensign Chekov before we stepped down onto the starbase?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Your pennant was not properly aligned.”

Jim’s brows furrow, “What? Yes it was..”

“It was not, Captain,” Spock insists, “It was off by 3.4 centimeters.”

“Spock!” Jim groans in annoyance, “Are you kidding me? Centimeters? Really?”

“Jim-” Spock starts to say when Jim climbs onto the bed and kisses him.

He feels the tense line in his shoulders ease up just a fraction, a soft moan of surprise escaping his lips as he kisses Jim back.

Jim sits propped on his hands and knees, his body hovering over Spock as he breaks the kiss to speak lowly, “How come you always taste and smell so good? I know you just woke up and you still taste amazing.”

Spock lifts his brows, “I am unsure what the answer to this question is, Jim. However, if you would like to view the regulation toothpaste that was assigned to me by Starfleet-”

Jim starts laughing, stopping abruptly to look at him once more, “Fuck me.”

Spock’s eyes widen, “Excuse me, Captain?”

“Fuck me, please,” Jim repeats himself, “I don’t care how you do it, I just wanna be as close to you as I can be.”

“Jim-”

“Don’t make me beg,” Jim starts to say something else, but Spock grabs him and quickly flips them over, the covers twisting with their bodies.

Spock pushes one arm under Jim’s shoulder, reaching up to brush the back of his hand along Jim’s cheek. His other hand takes Jim’s left leg, pulling it up and wrapping it around his waist as he kisses the man beneath him.

The hand of Jim’s that isn’t in his hair moves down to grab his ass, drawing him in, their hips connecting.

They kiss and arch and rut until Spock decides that there is far too much fabric between them and he pulls off of Jim. Sitting back on his knees, he takes a moment to admire the state of disarray he has left Jim in. The Captain graciously took the time to get dressed before coming to see him, possibly (and most likely) not suspecting it would lead to this.

He helps Jim out of his Captain’s shirt - stopping only long enough to fold it and set it up on the nightstand by the bed, then the black tunic underneath follows it. Spock removes his boots next, before he unzips and tugs off Jim’s pants as well.

Jim starts to say something, possibly object, but then Spock leans down and mouths at the material over his half-erect penis, “Oh god,” Jim’s head drops back, Spock ghosting his heated breath along the curve of it.

Carefully, he tugs the tight black shorts up and off, folding them and setting them carefully aside with the rest of Jim’s clothes.

He pauses, staring down at Jim, at the scars on his skin from the Klingons and possibly other ventures before. He kisses each of them, gentle in his exploration, moving down along the span of his torso, to his hips. Once he’s gotten all of the ones he can see, he sits back up to undress himself.

Jim’s eyes watch, reaching up with shaking hands to touch the thick dark hair on his chest.

“I know you said…” he mutters, smiling, “But damn, you /are/ hairy.”

Spock lifts a brow, “Whatever made you assume I wasn’t?”

Jim laughs, hands wrapping around, down, and when they grip Spock’s backside he lets out a surprised moan, “You’re always so clean shaven, you wear long sleeves, how could I begin to guess?”

Spock considers the logic presented to him and then nods, “I see,” he pulls Jim’s hands back then and presses a quick kiss to his lips, “Jim.”

“Yes, Spock?”

“Captain, if you will indulge me for a moment before we partake in copulation.”

He hears Jim swallow loudly, “Of course, Spock. What do you want?”

“I desire…” Spock glances at his lips, then lower, then back up to his eyes, “Jim, I would take nothing but deep pleasure in using the versatile tissue of my tongue to aid in the lubrication and loosening the current obdurate state of the ripples of sphincteric muscle that constrict entry to your anal-”

“Jesus, Spock,” Jim whimpers and Spock’s eyes widen when he grips the base of his penis tightly, hissing between his teeth.

“Jim?” Spock asks in confusion.

“Why can’t you just say ‘I want to eat your ass’ like everyone else?” Jim moans, turning slightly onto his side.

Spock’s brows narrow more as he struggles to ascertain the result of his own words, “Do you find discomfort in my previous phrasing of the words?”

“No,” Jim admits at once, the sound more like a weakened cry for help, “God, but I wish I did.”

“You find it arousing,” Spock concludes.

“Thanks for clarifying to the rest of the class, Captain Obvious.”

“Jim, my name is Spock. To what class are you referring? There are no others present to-”

Jim starts laughing, reaching up and running his hands through Spock’s hair, “I love you,” he says as he smiles widely at Spock.

Spock registers the hitch in Jim’s breath, his own eyes widening once more at the words, and they both stare at one another for a long moment.

“That came out a little too fast.”

“Jim, the feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

Jim blinks slowly up at Spock, fingers playing idly through his bangs, “Yeah, doesn’t take a genius to see that.”

Spock leans down and kisses Jim, holding him close and wrapping him up in his arms.

When they pull apart again, Spock feels an unusual lightness filter between them, a feeling of safety and confidence almost unfamiliar. A feeling he hasn’t felt since he was a child.

“Jim.”

“Spock.”

“I want to eat your ass.”

The curve of Jim’s lips is most pleasing, and no matter how Spock phrases it, he seems to get some kind of unanticipated reaction from his Captain.

“I find this phrasing of words very unattractive, Jim.”

“Do you, now?”

“I do,” Spock then begins to explain, “I am not consuming, nor would I ever dream of consuming, the flesh of your gluteal muscles. Furthermore, it is not even those muscles with which I desire to interact with, though they will be well within range.”

Jim chuckles lowly, winking at him, “We humans aren’t as literal as you Vulcans. Believe it or not, it can also be sometimes construed as an insult.”

“Is that so, Jim?”

“Let’s have a more in-depth conversation about this later,” Jim dismisses it, “For now, I as well, want you to eat my ass.”

Spock makes a face, but he feels that longing spark back up inside of him and he pulls away, flipping Jim over onto his stomach.

With Jim’s bare backside presented to him, Spock calmly smooths his palms up the backs of his thighs, over the curve of his cheeks, gripping the tissue in both palms. He had imagined it would be tight, muscular, but the fatty give of the skin surprises him. It is very unlike his own.

He hears a soft breath escape Jim’s lips, glancing up to meet his curious gaze, “I apologize, Jim. The more frigid state of my own mouth may be alarming at first. It should not take long, however, to adjust to the difference in temperature.”

“No, no, it’s fine, please. I like the difference,” Jim assures him.

Spock doesn’t question the statement, shifting his knees back as he spreads the voluptuous flesh in his hands. Instead of pressing his mouth between them, though, he starts by leaving open-mouthed kisses down the curve of Jim’s back.

“Oh, Spock,” Jim sighs.

Spock takes the encouragement as a sign, moving lower still, tracing his tongue down the line running down between his cheeks, unable to contain his own groan of arousal when he breathes in.

He’s careful when he mouths at the ring of muscles, feeling the puckered skin tense at first, but eventually giving in to his helpful ministrations.

After 5.22 minutes of what Spock is still uncomfortable calling ‘eating ass’, Spock pulls back to tug the front of his regulation undershorts down so that he can palm the pouch of his sex organ.

Jim watches him, “Where’s your lube?”

Spock lifts a brow, meeting his gaze, “Lube? You mean with which to use during intercourse? A replicated liquid that humans themselves are unable to supply naturally?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jim smirks.

“I do not require this, Jim,” Spock tells him, “My penis secretes pre-ejaculatory fluid along its shaft.”

He observes Jim’s expression change from amusement to arousal in .2 seconds, his own hand reaching out as he twists his body.

“How do you even hide such a thing here?” Jim asks, “Aren’t Vulcan dicks like… huge?”

Spock leans down over Jim, allowing him to rest his palm on the sensitive skin, “Would you prefer to explore it yourself?”

“I don’t wanna risk hurting you.”

“You cannot harm me, Jim,” Spock assures him, but then assists, taking Jim’s hand in his and touches the tips of his fingers to the thin slit of skin, not unlike the labia majora of a female.

Jim’s face is full of curiosity and wonder as he spreads the skin, tentatively exploring the inside and Spock lets out a soft breath of air when he feels the brush of coarse fingers on the head of his penis, “Did that hurt? I’m sorry, I don’t know how-”

“Not at all, Jim,” Spock cuts in weakly, “That is where my sex organ is at rest.”

Jim’s eyes widen in realization, and then he frowns, “It doesn’t feel all that big,” he says, then admonishes, “Not that I know much, but I thought-”

“You will understand soon, Jim,” Spock tells him, “Although I would advise I display that information for you postcoitus. Once I have become erect, it is not possible to attain a smaller state until release, or with much time and meditation.”

“Gotchya,” Jim says and pulls his hand back.

Spock watches in horror when Jim tastes the fluid on his fingers. He shudders, his penis slipping out from its sheath and he drops his hips lower, positioning himself against Jim’s backside.

“Shouldn’t you-” Jim stops, eyes wide when the phallus presses inward, spreading him open with ease. The tissue is barely thick enough to cause any discomfort, half an inch in width, but growing as Spock starts to undulate his hips.

He sees Jim’s mouth drop open, legs rising to join Spock’s thrusts. His hand takes Jim’s waist, guiding him, the other one lacing with his Captain’s.

“Holy f-Spock,” Jim looks back and up at him, cheeks flushed, “It’s… omf-”

Spock presses their lips together, pushing Jim down to the bed to better receive his thrusts. The movements grow in pace, their skin sticking, the bulbs of tissue along the underside of Spock’s penis adding to the pleasure Jim’s already experiencing when the head rubs over his prostate.

“Spock!” Jim sobs hoarsely, expression breaking when Spock puts both palms on his hips, shoving him down into the mattress and bringing him back up, snapping together, “Spock? Please, oh god.”

“I am here with you, Jim,” Spock tells him, leaning down to kiss him, slowing his movements just enough to feel the rim around his penis grip tighter as Jim ejaculates.

Spock is not long after, finally laying and pulling Jim in close to touch and kiss his face.

Jim shakes and curls into him, “Oh… wow, okay.”

“Jim, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just, you know,” Jim shrugs, looking at him over his shoulder, “Embarrassed, I guess?”

“For what reason?”

Jim chuckles, “Not lasting more than ten minutes.”

“Jim, as a highly educated being amongst your people,” Spock brushes the short bangs from Jim’s forehead, “I find it difficult to accept that you would expect copulation to last /more/ than ten minutes. In our case, I believe it reached what is to be considered a desirable length. 9.45 minutes is well within acceptable parameters. It has not a single thing to do with lack of stamina or sexual drive, or putting hair upon your pectorals.”

“Hair on your chest,” Jim tells him, “And you’re using it wrong.”

“Regardless, it does not negate my point.”

“Why do you always have to be so logical, Mr. Spock?”

“Jim,” Spock smiles only slightly, “This was our first time partaking in penetrative sexual intercourse. The length of time it took to achieve completion was quite admirable, I assure you.”

Jim turns when Spock’s penis has finally slipped from him, back to its natural size and texture, “So when it comes to even things like sex… Vulcans approach it… logically?”

“Yes, Jim,” Spock confirms, “Though there are exceptions to this rule. Where sex has been known to last hours, days.”

“Days?” Jim asks curiously, “When’s /that/ exception?”

“In time, you may learn of this occurrence, Jim.”

Jim chuckles and looks down between them, “So, now that we’re getting our postcoitus on, can I see what it does?”

Spock lifts his brows, “What it does, Jim?”

“Your magic stick.”

“Jim?”

“Your cock, Spock,” Jim says and lets out a strange, sharp giggle that even Spock finds amusing - albeit unusual.

“You may,” he finally says, shifting just far enough from Jim so that he can explore his nether regions.

He reaches inside the pouch of skin himself this time, only slightly more confident than he had before their love-making. Jim’s fingers wrap carefully around the thin shape of his penis, tugging and coaxing it from its sheath.

With a dampness to his skin, he draws it out, looking at it with wonder. His fingers brush along the bulbs on the underside and Spock lets out a tremulous moan.

“That feels good?”

Spock can’t even nod, his fingers pressing hard against Jim’s shoulder, “Yes,” he breathes.

“These were what was causing that strange vibration?” he asks.

“They were, Jim.”

“So I can’t help noticing that a lot of its features are pleasure based.”

“Indeed.”

Jim meets his eyes as the phallus starts to grow in his hand, “Why’s that?”

“I cannot provide much information on that, I am afraid,” Spock wets his lips, “One day, perhaps. But as I do wish to indulge your childlike wonder, I will simply supply you with this statement in hopes to sate your hunger for knowledge: Both the male and female Vulcan sexual organs are fitted for pleasure during specific, particular acts of mating so as to not cause harm during the often sudden transition. Though they are primarily thought to have been evolved to aid in this, they may also be taken advantage of under many other sexual acts as well. It is not singular in that respect.”

Jim purses his lips, then smiles, “You’ve only made my curiosity grow, Mr. Spock.”

“I did initially fear that this admission would result in such,” Spock sighs, “Will it ease your mind to know that even in my time shared with Nyota, I never spoke of it, not once?”

“Kind of,” Jim tells him, “But she also never had your dick inside her.”

“Indeed, Captain, this is a true statement,” Spock admits, “I regret that I was never comfortable being intimate with her. Though I did often rely on her for comfort, it was only ever to have her within my presence, and nothing more.”

Jim blinks up at him, “You never-no, I saw you two guys kiss…”

“I never understood a need to press lips together. I have been with only a handful others, and did not quite grasp the concept until your own lips were against mine, Jim.”

“You mean you like when I kiss you?”

“I do find it pleasing.”

“So what to Vulcans do, if not kissing?”

“Our lips are not an erogenous zone, Jim,” Spock explains, “Or, that is not normally the case. I can only assume that mine are because I am half-human as well. For us, it is within our hands.”

“Your hands?”

“Yes,” Spock then takes up Jim’s hand, pressing out the two first fingers and meeting them with his own, “This,” he says, allowing Jim to see, briefly, how it causes his breath to hitch.

Jim moves his hand experimentally, rubbing and then stopping in surprise when it results in a weak groan from Spock, “So… that one time when I shook your hand and you looked at me all horrified and disturbed-”

“Indeed, Jim. It was quite unexpected,” Spock confirms, “Had I seen it coming, I may have been prepared to ignore - as, perhaps, you would when kissing lips with a family member.”

“I’m sorry,” Jim apologizes, “I had no idea.”

“To us, though,” Spock tilts his head, pulling Jim in close, “It still does not compare quite to a kiss. Instead... “ his brows narrow, “When full hands touch so sudden, and rub together as we did… it was… as if…”

Jim waits patiently.

“It was as if you had grabbed my penis, Jim.”

Jim’s eyes widen and he pulls his hand back, flexing his fingers and looking at them, “Wow, okay. Whoops.”

Spock leans in, pressing his lips to Jim’s forehead, “Tell me about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I might have to write more of this ship, considering I've been holding myself back from indulging for like... 12 years now? I'm sorry for any inaccuracies, anything spelled wrong. Let me know.


End file.
